•> 


BERKELEY 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 


FAIR    HARBOR 


By  JOSEPH  C.  LINCOLN 

FAIR  HARBOR 

GALUSHA    THE  MAGNIFICENT 

THE  PORTYGEE 

"SHAVINGS" 

MARY-'GUSTA 

CAP'N  DAN'S  DAUGHTER 

THE  RISE  OF  ROSCOE  PAINE 

THE  POSTMASTER 

THE  WOMAN  HATERS 

KEZIAH  COFFIN 

CY  WHITTAKER'S  PLACE 

CAP'N  ERI 

EXTRICATING  OBADIAH 

THANKFUL'S  INHERITANCE 

MR.  PRATT 

MR.  PRATT'S  PATIENTS 

KENT  KNOWLES:    "QUAHAUG" 

CAP'N  WARREN'S  WARDS 

THE  DEPOT  MASTER 

OUR  VILLAGE 

PARTNERS  OF  THE  TIDE 

THE  OLD  HOME  HOUSE 

CAPE  COD  BALLADS 

T  162  H 


FAIR  HARBOR 

A  NOVEL 

BY 

JOSEPH  C.  LINCOLN 

AUTHOR  OF  "GALUSHA  THE  MAGNIFICENT," 

"SHAVINGS,"  "MARY  'GUSTA,"  "MR.  PRATT," 

"CAP'N  ERI,"  ETC. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK     :  :     1922      :  :     LONDON 


COPYRIGHT,    1922,   BY 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1922,  by  the  Curtis  Publishing  Company 

PRINTED    IN    THE    UNITED   STATES   OF   AMERICA 


FAIR  HARBOR 


797 


FAIR  HARBOR 


H 


CHAPTER    I 

44  f  "|"  I  HUM,"  observed  Mr.  Joel  Macomber,  putting 
down  his  knife  and  fork  with  obvious  reluctance 
and  tilting  back  his  chair.  "Hi  hum-a-day! 
Man,  born  of  woman,  is  of  few  days  and  full  of — of  some- 
thin',  I  forget  what — George,  what  is  it  a  man  born  of 
woman  is  full  of?" 

George  Kent,  putting  down  his  knife  and  fork,  smiled 
and  replied  that  he  didn't  know.  Mr.  Macomber  seemed 
shocked. 

"Don't  know?"  he  repeated.  "Tut,  tut !  Dear  me,  dear 
me!  A  young  feller  that  goes  to  prayer  meetin'  every 
Friday  night — or  at  least  waits  outside  the  meetin'-house 
door  every  Friday  night — and  yet  he  don't  remember  his 
Scriptur' ^vell  enough  to  know  what  man  born  of  woman 
is  full  of?  My  soul  and  body !  What's  the  world  comin* 
to?" 

Nobody  answered.  The  six  Macomber  children,  Lem 
uel,  Edgar,  Sarah-Mary,  Bemis,  Aldora  and  Joey,  ages 
ranging  from  fourteen  to  two  and  a  half,  kept  on  eating 
in  silence — or,  if  not  quite  in  silence,  at  least  without 
speaking.  They  had  been  taught  not  to  talk  at  table; 
their  mother  had  taught  them,  their  father  playing  the 
part  of  horrible  example.  Mrs.  Macomber,  too,  was 
silent.  She  was  busy  stacking  plates  and  cups  and  sau 
cers  preparatory  to  clearing  away.  When  the  clearing 
away  was  finished  she  would  be  busy  washing  dishes 

I 


FAIR   HARBOR 


and  after  that  at  some  other  household  duty.  She  was 
always  busy  and  always  behind  with  her  work. 

Her  husband  turned  to  the  only  other  person  at  the 
crowded  table. 

"Cap'n  Sears,"  he  demanded,  "you  know  'most  every 
thing.  What  is  it  man  born  of  woman  is  full  of  besides 
a  few  days?" 

Sears  Kendrick  thoughtfully  folded  his  napkin.  There 
was  a  hole  in  the  napkin — holes  were  characteristic  of  the 
Macomber  linen — but  the  napkin  was  clean ;  this  was 
characteristic,  too. 

"Meanin'  yourself,  Joel?"  he  asked,  bringing  the  nap 
kin  edges  into  line. 

"Not  necessarily.  Meanin'  any  man  born  of  woman,  I 
presume  likely." 

"Humph!    Know  many  that  wasn't  born  that  way?" 

Mr.  Macomber's  not  too  intellectual  face  creased  into 
many  wrinkles  and  the  low  ceiling  echoed  with  his  laugh. 
"Not  many,  I  don't  cal'late,"  he  said,  "that's  a  fact.  But 
you  ain't  answered  my  question,  Cap'n.  What  is  man 
born  of  woman  full  of?" 

Captain  Kendrick  placed  the  folded  napkin  carefully 
beside  his  plate. 

"Breakfast,  just  now,  I  presume  likely,"  he  said.  "At 
least,  I  know  two  or  three  that  ought  to  be,  judgin'  by 
the  amount  of  cargo  I've  seen  'em  stow  aboard  in  the 
last  half  hour."  Then,  turning  to  Mrs.  Macomber,  he 
added,  "I'm  goin'  to  help  you  with  the  dishes  this  morn- 
iiT,  Sarah." 

The  lady  of  the  house  had  her  own  ideas  on  that 
subject. 

"Indeed  you  won't  do  anything  of  the  sort,"  she  de 
clared.  "The  idea !  And  you  just  out  of  a  crippled  bed, 
as  you  might  say." 

This  remark  seemed  to  amuse  her  husband  hugely. 
"Ho,  ho!"  he  shouted.  "That's  a  good  one!  I  didn't 
know  the  bed  was  crippled,  Sarah.  What's  the  matter 
with  it;  got  a  pain  in  the  slats?" 


FAIR    HARBOR 


Sarah  Macomber  seldom  indulged  in  retort.  Usually 
she  was  too  busy  to  waste  the  time.  But  she  allowed 
herself  the  luxury  of  a  half  minute  on  this  occasion. 

"No,"  she  snapped,  "but  it's  had  one  leg  propped  up 
on  half  a  brick  for  over  a  year.  And  at  least  once  a  week 
in  all  that  time  you've  been  promisin'  to  bring  home  a 
new  caster  and  fix  it.  If  that  bed  ain't  a  cripple  I  don't 
know  what  is." 

Joel  looked  a  trifle  taken  aback.  His  laugh  this  time 
was  not  quite  as  uproarious. 

"Guess  you  spoke  the  truth  that  time,  Sarah,  without 
knowin'  it.  Who  is  it  they  say  always  speaks  the  truth? 
Children  and  fools,  ain't  it?  Well,  you  ain't  a  child 
scarcely,  Sarah.  Hope  you  ain't  the  other  thing.  Eh? 
Ho,  ho!" 

Mrs.  Macomber  was  halfway  to  the  kitchen  door,  a 
pile  of  plates  upon  her  arm.  She  did  not  stop  nor  turn, 
but  she  did  speak. 

"Well,"  she  observed,  "I  don't  know.  I  was  one  once 
in  my  life,  there's  precious  little  doubt  about  that." 

She  left  the  room.  Young  Kent  and  Captain  Kendrick 
exchanged  glances.  Mr.  Macomber  swallowed,  opened 
his  mouth,  closed  it  and  swallowed  again.  Lemuel  and 
Sarah-Mary,  the  two  older  children,  giggled.  The  clock 
on  the  mantel  struck  seven  times.  The  sound  came,  to 
the  adults,  as  a  timely  relief  from  embarrassment. 

Captain  Kendrick  looked  at  his  watch. 

"What's  that?"  he  exclaimed.  "Six  bells  already?  So 
'tis.  I  declare  I  didn't  think  'twas  so  late." 

Joel  rose  to  his  feet,  moving — for  him — with  marked 
rapidity. 

"Seven  o'clock !"  he  cried.  "My,  my !  We've  got  to 
get  under  way,  George,  if  we  want  to  make  port  at  the 
store  afore  'Liphalet  does.  Come  on,  George,  hurry  up." 

Kent  lingered  for  a  moment  to  speak  to  Sears  Ken- 

>drick.     Then  he  emerged  from  the  house  and  he  and 

Joel  walked  rapidly  off  together.    They  were  employed, 

one  as  clerk  and  bookkeeper  and  the  other  as  driver  of 


FAIR    HARBOR 


the  delivery  wagon,  at  Eliphalet  Bassett's  Grocery,  Dry 
Goods,  Boots  and  Shoes  and  Notion  Store  at  the  corner 
of  the  main  road  and  the  depot  road.  Joel's  position 
there  was  fixed  for  eternity,  at  least  he  considered  it  so, 
having  driven  that  same  delivery  wagon  at  the  same 
wage  for  twenty-two  years.  "Me  and  that  grocery  cart," 
Mr.  Macomber  was  wont  to  observe,  "have  been  doin' 
'Liphalet's  errands  so  long  we've  come  to  be  permanent 
fixtures.  Yes,  sir,  permanent  fixtures."  When  this  was 
repeated  to  Mr.  Bassett  the  latter  affirmed  that  it  was 
true.  "Every  time  the  dum  fool  goes  out  takin*  orders," 
said  Eliphalet,  "he  stays  so  long  that  I  begin  to  think 
he's  turned  into  a  permanent  fixture.  Takes  an  order  for 
a  quarter  pound  of  tea  and  a  spool  of  cotton  and  then 
hangs  'round  and  talks  steady  for  half  an  hour.  Perma 
nent  fixture !  Permanent  gas  fixture,  that's  what  he  is." 

George  Kent  did  not  consider  himself  a  permanent  fix 
ture  at  Bassett's.  He  had  been  employed  there  for  three 
years,  or  ever  since  the  death  of  his  father,  Captain 
Sylvester  Kent,  who  had  died  at  sea  aboard  his  ship,  the 
Ocean  Ranger,  on  the  voyage  home  from  Java  to  Phila 
delphia.  George  remained  in  Bayport  to  study  law  with 
Judge  Knowles,  who  was  interested  in  the  young  man 
and,  being  a  lawyer  of  prominence  on  the  Cape,  was  an 
influential  friend  worth  having.  The  law  occupied  young 
Kent's  attention  in  the  evenings;  he  kept  Mr.  Bassett's 
books  and  sold  Mr.  Bassett's  brown  sugar,  calico  and 
notions  during  the  days,  not  because  he  loved  the  work, 
the  place,  or  its  proprietor,  but  because  the  twelve  dollars 
paid  him  each  Saturday  enabled  him  to  live.  And,  in 
order  to  live  so  cheaply  that  he  might  save  a  bit  toward 
the  purchase  of  clothes,  law  books  and  sundries,  he 
boarded  at  Joel  Macomber's.  Sarah  Macomber  took  him 
to  board,  not  because  she  needed  company — six  children 
and  a  husband  supplied  a  sufficiency  of  that — but  because 
three  dollars  more  a  week  was  three  dollars  more. 

Joel  and  George  having  tramped  off  to  business  and 
the  very  last  crumb  of  the  Macomber  breakfast  having 


FAIR    HARBOR 


vanished,  the  Macomber  children  proceeded  to  go  through 
their  usual  morning  routine.  Lemuel,  who  did  chores  for 
grumpy  old  Captain  Elijah  Samuels  at  the  latter's  big 
place  on  the  depot  road,  departed  to  rake  hay  and  be 
sworn  at.  Sarah-Mary  went  upstairs  to  make  beds ; 
when  the  bed-making  was  over  she  and  Edgar  and  Bemis 
would  go  to  school.  Aldora  and  Joey,  the  two  youngest, 
went  outdoors  to  play.  And  Captain  Sears  Kendrick, 
late  master  of  the  ship  Hawkeye,  and  before  that  of  the 
Fair  Wind  and  the  Far  Seas  and  goodness  knows  how 
many  others,  who  ran  away  to  ship  as  cabin  boy  when 
he  was  thirteen,  who  fought  the  Malay  pirates  when  he 
was  eighteen,  and  outwitted  Semmes  by  outmaneuvering 
the  Alabama  when  he  was  twenty-eight,  a  man  once  so 
strong  and  bronzed  and  confident,  but  now  so  weak  and 
shaken — Captain  Sears  Kendrick  rose  painfully  and  with 
effort  from  his  chair,  took  his  cane  from  the  corner  and 
hobbled  to  the  kitchen. 

"Sarah,"  he  said,  "I'm  goin*  to  help  you  with  those 
dishes  this  mornin'." 

"Sears,"  said  Mrs.  Macomber,  taking  the  kettle  of  boil 
ing  dish-water  from  the  top  of  the  stove,  "you'll  do 
nothin'  of  the  kind.  You'll  go  outdoors  and  get  a  little 
sunshine  this  lovely  day.  It's  the  first  real  good  day 
you've  had  since  you  got  up  from  bed,  and  outdoors  '11 
help  you  more  than  anything  else.  Now  you  go!" 

"But  look  here,  Sarah,  for  Heaven's  sake " 

"Be  still,  Sears,  and  don't  be  foolish.  There  ain't  dishes 
enough  to  worry  about.  I'll  have  'em  done  in  half  a 
shake.  Go  outdoors,  I  tell  you.  But  don't  you  walk  on 
those  legs  of  yours.  You  hear  me." 

Her  brother — Sarah  Macomber  was  a  Kendrick  before 
she  married  Joel — smiled  slightly.  "How  do  you  want 
me  to  walk,  Sarah,  on  my  hands?"  he  inquired.  "Never 
mind  my  legs.  They're  better  this  mornin'  than  they 
have  been  since  that  fat  woman  and  a  train  of  cars  fell  on 
'em.  ...  Ah  hum !"  with  a  change  of  tone,  "it's  a  pity 


FAIR    HARBOR 


they  didn't  fall  on  my  neck  and  make  a  clean  job  of  it, 
isn't  it?" 

"Sears!"  reproachfully.  "How  can  you  talk  so?  And 
especially  now,  when  the  doctor  says  if  you  take  care  of 
yourself,  you'll  'most  likely  be  as  well  as  ever  in — in  a 
little  while." 

"A  little  while !  In  a  year  or  two  was  what  he  said. 
In  ten  years  was  probably  what  he  meant,  and  you'll 
notice  he  put  in  the  'most  likely'  even  at  that.  If  you 
were  to  lash  him  in  the  fore-riggin'  and  keep  him  there 
till  he  told  the  truth,  he'd  probably  end  by  sayin'  that  I 
would  always  be  a  good  for  nothin'  hulk  same  as  I  am 
now." 

"Sears,  don't — please  don't.  I  hate  to  hea^  you  speak 
so  bitter.  It  doesn't  sound  like  you." 

"It's  the  way  I  feel,  Sarah.  Haven't  I  had  enough  to 
make  me  bitter?" 

'  His  sister  shook  her  head.  "Yes,  Sears,"  she  admitted, 
"I  guess  likely  you  have,  but  I  don't  know  as  that  is  a 
very  good  excuse.  Some  of  the  rest  of  us,"  with  a  sigh, 
"haven't  found  it  real  smooth  sailin'  either ;  but " 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  and  there  was  no  need. 
He  understood  and  turned  quickly. 

"I'm  sorry,  Sarah,"  he  said.  "I  ought  to  be  hove  over 
board  and  towed  astern.  The  Almighty  knows  you've 
had  more  to  put  up  with  than  ever  I  had  and  you  don't 
spend  your  time  growlin'  about  it,  either.  I  declare  I'm 
ashamed  of  myself,  but — but — well,  you  know  how  it  is 
with  me.  I've  never  been  used  to  bein'  a  loafer,  spongin' 
on  my  relations." 

"Don't,  Sears.  You  know  you  ain't  spongin',  as  you 
call  it.  You've  paid  your  board  ever  since  you've  been 
here." 

"Yes,  I  have.  But  how  much?  Next  to  half  of  nothin' 
a  week  and  you  wouldn't  have  let  me  pay  that  if  I  hadn't 
put  my  foot  down.  Or  said  I  was  goin'  to  try  to  put  it 
down,"  he  added  with  a  grim  smile.  "You're  a  good 
woman,  Sarah,  a  good  woman,  with  more  trials  than  your 


FAIR    HARBOR 


share.  And  what  makes  me  feel  worst  of  all,  I  do  believe, 
is  that  I  should  be  pitched  in  on  you — to  be  the  biggest 
trial  of  all.  Well,  that  part's  about  over,  anyhow.  No 
matter  whether  I  can  walk  or  not  I  shan't  stay  and  sponge 
on  you.  If  I  can't  do  anything  else  I'll  hire  a  fish  shanty 
and  open  clams  for  a  livin'." 

He  smiled  again  and  she  smiled  in  sympathy,  but  there 
were  tears  in  her  eyes.  She  was  seven  years  older  than 
her  brother,  and  he  had  always  been  her  pride.  When 
she  was  a  young  woman,  helping  with  the  housework  in 
the  old  home  there  in  Bayport,  before  her  father's  death 
and  the  sale  of  that  home,  she  had  watched  with  immense 
gratification  his  success  in  school.  When  he  ran  away 
to  sea  she  had  defended  him  when  others  condemned. 
Later,  when  tales  of  his  "smartness,"  as  sailor  or  mate, 
or  by  and  by,  a  full  rated  captain,  began  to  drift  back,  she 
had  gloried  in  them.  He  came  to  see  her  semi-occasion- 
ally  when  his  ship  was  in  port,  and  his  yarns  of  foreign 
lands  and  strange  people  were,  to  her,  far  more  wonder 
ful  than  anything  she  had  ever  found  in  the  few  books 
which  had  come  in  her  way.  Each  present  he  brought 
her  she  had  kept  and  cherished.  And  there  was  never 
a  trace  of  jealousy  in  her  certain  knowledge  that  he 
had  gone  on  growing  while  she  had  stopped,  that  he  was 
a  strong,  capable  man  of  the  world — the  big  world — 
whereas  she  was,  and  would  always  be,  the  wife  and 
household  drudge  of  Joel  Macomber. 

Now,  as  she  looked  at  him,  pale,  haggard  and  leaning 
on  his  cane,  stooping  a  little  when  he  had  been  so  erect 
and  sturdy,  the  pity  which  she  had  felt  for  him  ever  since 
they  brought  him  into  her  sitting-room  on  the  day  of  the 
railway  accident  became  keener  than  ever  and  with  it 
came  an  additional  flash  of  insight.  She  realized  more 
clearly  than  she  had  before  that  it  was  not  his  bodily  in 
juries  which  hurt  most  and  were  the  hardest  to  bear;  it 
was  his  self-respect  and  the  pride  which  were  wounded 
sorest.  That  he — he — Sears  Kendrick,  the  independent 
autocrat  of  the  quarter  deck,  should  be  reduced  to  this ! 


8  FAIR    HARBOR 


That  it  was  wringing  his  soul  she  knew.  He  had  never 
complained  except  to  her,  and  even  to  her  very,  very 
seldom,  but  she  knew.  And  she  ventured  to  ask  the 
question  she  had  wanted  to  ask  ever  since  he  had  suf 
ficiently  recovered  to  listen  to  conversation. 

"Sears,"  she  said  "I  haven't  said  a  word  before,  and  you 
needn't  tell  me  now  if  you  don't  want  to — it  isn't  any  of 
my  business — but  is  it  true  that  you've  lost  a  whole  lot 
of  money?  It  isn't  true,  is  it?" 

He  had  been  standing  by  the  open  door,  looking  out  in 
to  the  yard.  Now  he  turned  to  look  at  her. 

"What  isn't  true,  Sarah?"  he  asked. 

"That  you've  lost  a  lot  of  money  in — in  that — that 
business  you  went  into.  It  isn't  true,  is  it,  Sears?  Oh,  I 
hope  it  isn't!  They  say — why,  some  of  'em  say  you've 
lost  all  the  money  you  had  put  by.  An  awful  sight  of 
money,  they  say.  Sears,  tell  me  it  isn't  true — please." 

He  regarded  her  in  silence  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
shook  his  head. 

"Part  of  it  isn't  true,  Sarah,"  he  answered,  with  a 
slight  smile.  "I  haven't  lost  a  big  lot  of  money." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad.  Now  I  can  tell  'em  a  few  things,  I 
guess." 

"I  wouldn't  tell  'em  too  much,  because  the  other  part 
is  true.  I  have  lost  about  all  I  had  put  by." 

"Oh,  Sears !" 

"Um — hm.  And  served  me  right,  of  course.  You  can't 
make  a  silk  ear  out  of  a  sow's  purse,  as  old  Cap'n  Sam 
Doane  used  to  love  to  say.  You  can't,  no  matter  how 
good  a  purse — or — ear — it  is.  I  was  a  pretty  good  sea 
cap'n  if  I  do  say  it,  but  that  wasn't  any  reason  why  I 
should  have  figured  I  was  a  good  enough  business  man 
to  back  as  slippery  an  eel  as  Jim  Carpenter  in  the  ship 
chandlery  game  ashore." 

"But — you "  Mrs.  Macomber  hesitated  to  utter  the 

disgraceful  word,  "you  didn't  fail  up,  did  you,  Sears?" 
she  faltered.  "You  know  that's  what  they  say  you  did." 

"Well,  they  say  wrong.     Carpenter  failed,  I  didn't.    I 


FAIR    HARBOR 


paid  dollar  for  dollar.  That's  why  I've  got  next  to  no 
dollars  now." 

"But  you — you've  got  some,  Sears.  You  must  have," 
hopefully,  "because  you've  been  paying  me  board.  So 
you  must  have  some  left." 

The  triumph  in  her  face  was  pathetic.  He  hated  to 
disturb  her  faith. 

"Yes,"  he  said  dryly,  "I  have  some  left.  Maybe  seven 
hundred  dollars  or  some  such  matter.  If  I  had  my  legs 
left  it  would  be  enough,  of  more  than  enough.  I  wouldn't 
ask  odds  of  anybody  if  I  was  the  way  I  was  before  that 
train  went  off  the  track.  I'd  lost  every  shot  I  had  in  the 
locker,  but  I'm  not  very  old  yet — some  years  to  leeward 
of  forty — there  was  more  money  to  be  had  where  that 
came  from  and  I  meant  to  have  it.  And  then — well,  then 
this  happened  to  me." 

"I  know.  And  to  think  that  you  was  comin'  down 
here  on  purpose  to  see  me  when  it  did  happen.  Seems 
almost  as  if  I  was  to  blame,  somehow." 

"Nonsense!  Nobody  was  to  blame  but  the  engineer 
that  wrecked  the  train  and  the  three  hundred  pound 
woman  that  fell  on  my  legs.  And  the  engineer  was 
killed,  poor  fellow,  and  the  woman  was — well,  she 
carried  her  own  punishment  with  her,  I  guess  likely. 
Anyhow,  I  should  call  it  a  punishment  if  I  had  to  carry 
it.  There,  there,  Sarah!  Let's  talk  about  somethin' 
else.  You  do  your  dishes  and,  long  as  you  won't  let 
me  help  you,  I'll  hop-and-go-fetch-it  out  to  thai:  settee  in 
the  front  yard  and  look  at  the  scenery.  Just  think !  I've 
been  in  Bayport  almost  four  months  and  haven't  been  as 
far  as  that  gate  yet — except  when  they  lugged  me  in 
past  it,  of  course.  And  I  don't  recall  much  about  that." 

"I  guess  not,  you  poor  boy.  And  I  saw  them  bringin' 
you  in,  all  stretched  out,  with  your  eyes  shut,  and  as 

white  as Oh,  my  soul  and  body!  I  don't  want  to 

think  about  it,  let  alone  talk  about  it." 

"Neither  do  I,  Sarah,  so  we  won't.  Do  you  realize 
how  little  I  know  of  what's  been  goin'  on  in  Bayport 


I0  FAIR   HARBOR 


since  I  was  here  last?     And  do  you  realize  how  long  it 
has  been  since  I  was  here?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  do,  Sears.     It's  been  almost  six  years; 
it  will  be  just  six  on  the  tenth  of  next  September." 

The  speech  was  illuminating.  He  looked  at  her  curi 
ously.  .  ,  ,  , 

"You  do  keep  account  of  my  goin's  and  comin  s,  don  t 
you,  old  girl?"  he  said.  "Better  than  I  do  myself." 

"Oh,  it  means  more  to  me  than  it  does  to  you.  You 
live  such  a  busy  life,  Sears,  all  over  the  world,  meetm^ 
everybody  in  all  kinds  of  places.  For  me,  with  nothin 
to  do  but  be  stuck  down  here  in  Bayport— well,  it's  dif 
ferent  with  me— I  have  to  remember.  Rememberm  and 
lookin'  ahead  is  about  all  I  have  to  keep  me  interested." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  he  said :  It  looks 
as  if  rememberin'  was  all  I  will  be  likely  to  have.  Think 
of  it,  Sarah !  Four  months  in  Bayport  and  I  haven't  been 
to  the  post-office.  That'll  stand  as  a  town  record,  I 

bet."  __ 

"And— and  you'll  keep  up  your  courage,  bears:1  You 
won't  let  yourself  get  blue  and  discouraged,  for  my  sake 
if  nobody  else's?" 

He  nodded.  "I  couldn't,  Sarah,"  he  said  earnestly. 
"With  you  around  I'd  be  ashamed  to." 

She  ran  to  help  him  down  the  step,  but  he  waved  her 
away,  and,  leaning  upon  the  cane  and  clinging  fast  to  the 
lattice  with  the  other  hand,  he  managed  to  make  the  de 
scent  safely.  Once  on  the  flat  level  of  the  walk  he  moved 
more  rapidly  and,  so  it  seemed  to  his  sister,  more  easily 
than  he  had  since  his  accident.  The  forty  odd  feet  of 
walk  he  navigated  in  fair  time  and  came  to  anchor,  as  he 
would  have  expressed  it,  upon  the  battered  old  bench  by 
the  Macomber  gate.  The  gate,  like  the  picket  fence,  of 
which  it  was  a  part,  needed  paint  and  the  bench  needed 
slats  in  its  back.  Almost  anything  which  Joel  Macom 
ber  owned  needed  something  and  his  wife  and  family 
needed  most  of  all. 

An  ancient  cherry  tree,  its  foliage  now  thickly  spotted 


FAIR    HARBOR  11 


with  green  fruit,  for  the  month  was  June,  cast  a  shadow 
upon  the  occupant  of  the  bench.  At  his  feet  grew  a 
bed  of  daffodils  and  jonquils  which  Sarah  Macomber  had 
planted  when  she  came,  a  hopeful  bride,  to  that  house. 
Each  year  they  sprouted  and  bloomed  and  now,  long  after 
Sarah's  hopes  had  ceased  to  sprout,  they  continued  to 
flourish.  Beside  the  cherry  tree  grew  a  lilac  bush.  Be 
yond  the  picket  fence  was  the  dusty  sidewalk  and  beyond 
that  the  dustier,  rutted  road.  And  beyond  the  road  and 
along  it  upon  both  sides  were  the  houses  and  barns  and 
the  few  shops  of  Bayport  village,  Bayport  as  it  was,  and 
as  some  of  us  remember  it,  in  the  early  *7o's. 

In  some  respects  it  was  much  like  the  Bayport  of  to 
day.  The  houses  themselves  have  changed  but  little. 
Then,  as  now,  they  were  trim  and  white  and  green-shut 
tered.  Then,  as  now,  the  roses  climbed  upon  their  lat 
tices  and  the  silver-leaf  poplars  and  elms  and  mul 
berry  trees  waved  above  them.  But  the  fences  which 
enclosed  their  trim  lawns  and  yards  have  disap 
peared,  and  the  hitching  posts  and  carriage  blocks  by 
their  front  gates  have  gone  also.  Gone,  too,  are  the 
horses  and  buggies  and  carryalls  which  used  to  stand  by 
these  gates  or  within  those  barns.  They  are  gone,  just 
as  the  ruts  and  dust  of  the  roads  have  vanished.  When 
Mrs.  Captain  Hammond,  of  the  lower  road,  used  to  call 
upon  Mrs.  Ryder  at  West  Bayport,  she  was  wont  to  be 
driven  to  her  destination  in  the  intensely  respectable 
Hammond  buggy  drawn  by  the  equally  respectable 
Hammond  horse  and  piloted  by  the  even  more  respect 
able — not  to  say  venerable — Hammond  coachman,  who 
was  also  gardener  and  "hired  man."  And  they  made  the 
little  journey  in  the  very  respectable  time  of  thirty-five 
minutes.  Now  when  Mrs.  Captain  Hammond's  grand 
daughter,  who  winters  in  Boston  but  summers  at  the  old 
home,  wishes  to  go  to  West  Bayport  she  skims  over  the 
hard,  oiled  macadam  in  her  five  thousand  dollar  runabout 
and  she  finishes  the  skimming  in  eight  minutes  or  less. 

And  although  the  dwellings  along  the  Bayport  roads 


12  FAIR    HARBOR 


are  much  as  they  were  that  morning  when  Captain  Sears 
Kendrick  sat  upon  the  bench  in  the  Macomber  yard  and 
gazed  gloomily  at  the  section  of  road  which  lay  between 
the  Macomber  gate  and  the  curve  beyond  the  Orthodox 
meeting-house — although  the  houses  were  much  the  same 
in  external  appearance,  those  who  occupy  them  at  the 
present  day  are  vastly  different  from  those  who  owned 
and  lived  in  them  then.  Here  is  the  greatest  change 
which  time  has  brought  to  old  Bayport.  Now  those 
houses — the  majority  of  them — are  open  only  in  sum 
mer  ;  then  they  were  open  all  the  year.  They  who  come 
to  them  now  regard  them  as  playthings,  good-time  cen 
ters  for  twelve  or  fourteen  weeks.  Then  they  were  the 
homes  of  men  and  women  who  were  proud  of  them, 
loved  them,  meant  to  live  in  them — while  on  land — as 
long  as  life  was  theirs ;  to  die  in  them  if  fortunate  enough 
to  be  found  by  death  while  ashore ;  and  at  last  to  be  bur 
ied  near  them,  under  the  pines  of  the  Bayport  cemetery. 
Now  these  homes  are  used  by  business  men  or  lawyers 
or  doctors,  whose  real  homes  are  in  Boston,  New  York, 
Chicago,  or  other  cities.  Then  practically  every  house 
was  owned  or  occupied  either  by  a  sea  captain,  active  or 
retired,  or  by  a  captain's  widow  or  near  relative. 

For  example,  as  Captain  Kendrick  sat  in  his  brother- 
in-law's  yard  on  that  June  morning  of  that  year  in  the 
early  '7o's,  within  his  sight,  that  is  within  the  half  mile 
from  curve  to  curve  of  the  lower  road,  were  no  less  than 
nine  houses  in  which  dwelt — or  had  dwelt — men  who 
gained  a  living  upon  a  vessel's  quarter  deck.  Directly 
across  the  road  was  the  large,  cupola-crowned  house  of 
Captain  Solomon  Snow.  Captain  Sol  was  at  present 
somewhere  between  Surinam  and  New  York,  bound 
home.  His  wife  was  with  him,  so  was  his  youngest  child. 
The  older  children  were  at  home,  in  the  big  house ;  their 
aunt,  Captain  Sol's  sister,  herself  a  captain's  widow,  was 
with  them. 

Next  to  Captain  Solomon's  was  the  Crowell  place. 
Captain  Bethuel  Crowell  was  in  Hong  Kong,  but,  so  his 


FAIR    HARBOR  13 


wife  reported  at  sewing  circle,  had  expected  to  sail  from 
there  "any  day  about  now"  bound  for  Melbourne.  Next 
to  Captain  Bethuel  lived  Mrs.  Patience  Foster,  called 
"Mary  Pashy"  by  the  townspeople  to  distinguish  her 
from  another  Mary  Foster  in  East  Bayport.  Her  hus 
band  had  been  drowned  at  sea,  or  at  least  so  it  was  sup 
posed.  His  ship  left  Philadelphia  eight  years  before  and 
had  never  been  spoken  or  heard  from  since  that  time. 
Next  to  Mary-Pashy's  was  the  imposing,  if  ugly,  resi 
dence  of  Captain  Elkanah  Wingate.  Captain  Elkanah 
was  retired,  wealthy,  a  member  of  the  school-committee, 
a  selectman,  an  aristocrat  and  an  autocrat.  And  beyond 
Captain  Elkanah  lived  Captain  Godfrey  Peasley — who 
was  not  quite  of  the  aristocracy  as  he  commanded  a 
schooner  instead  of  a  square-rigger,  and  beyond  him 
Mrs.  Tabitha  Crosby,  whose  husband  had  died  of  yellow 
fever  while  aboard  his  ship  in  New  Orleans ;  and  beyond 
Mrs.  Crosby's  was — well,  the  next  building  was  the 
Orthodox  meeting-house,  where  the  Reverend  David 
Dishup  preached.  Nowadays  people  call  it  the  Congre- 
gationalist  church.  On  the  same  side  of  the  road  as  the 
Macomber  cottage  were  the  homes  of  Captain  Sylvanus 
Baker  and  Captain  Noah  Baker  and  of  Captain  Orrin  El- 
dridge. 

Bayport,  in  that  day,  was  not  only  by  the  sea,  it  was  of 
the  sea.  The  sea  winds  blew  over  it,  the  sea  air  smelled 
salty  in  its  highways  and  byways,  its  male  citizens- 
most  of  them — walked  with  a  sea  roll,  and  upon  the  tables 
and  whatnots  of  their  closed  and  shuttered  "front  par 
lors"  or  in  their  cupboards  or  closets  were  laquered  cab 
inets,  and  whales'  teeth,  and  alabaster  images,  and  carved 
chessmen  and  curious  shells  and  scented  fans  and 
heaven  knows  what,  brought  from  heaven  knows  where, 
but  all  brought  in  sailing  ships  over  one  or  more  of  the 
seas  of  the  world.  The  average  better  class  house  in 
Bayport  was  an  odd  combination  of  home  and  museum, 
the  rear  two-thirds  the  home  section  and  the  remaining 
third,  that  nearest  the  road,  the  museum.  Bayport  front 


i4  FAIR    HARBOR 


parlors  looked  like  museums,  and  generally  smelled  like 
them. 

To  a  stranger  from,  let  us  say,  the  middle  west,  the 
village  then  must  have  seemed  a  queer  little  community 
dozing  upon  its  rolling  hills  and  by  its  white  beaches,  a 
community  where  the  women  had,  most  of  them,  trav 
eled  far  and  seen  many  strange  things  and  places,  but  who 
seldom  talked  of  them,  preferring  to  chat  concerning  the 
minister's  wife's  new  bonnet;  and  whose  men  folk,  ap 
pearing  at  long  intervals  from  remote  parts  of  the  world, 
spoke  of  the  port  side  of  a  cow  and  compared  the  three- 
sided  clock  tower  of  the  new  town  hall  with  the  peak  of 
TenerifFe  on  a  foggy  morning. 

All  this,  odd  as  it  may  have  seemed  to  visitors  from  in 
land,  were  but  matters  of  course  to  Sears  Kendrick.  To 
him  there  was  nothing  strange  in  the  deep  sea  atmos 
phere  of  his  native  town.  It  had  been  there  ever  since 
he  knew  it,  he  fondly  imagined — being  as  poor  a  pro 
phet  as  most  of  us — that  it  would  always  be.  And,  as 
he  sat  there  in  the  Macomber  yard,  his  thoughts  were 
busy,  not  with  Bayport's  past  or  future,  but  with  his  own, 
and  neither  retrospect  nor  forecast  was  cheerful.  He 
could  see  little  behind  him  except  the  mistakes  he  had 
made,  and  before  him — not  even  the  opportunity  to  make 
more. 

Overhead,  amid  the  cherry  branches,  the  bees  buzzed 
and  the  robins  chirped.  From  the  kitchen  window  came 
the  click  of  dishes  as  Mrs.  Macomber  washed  and  wiped 
them.  Around  the  curve  of  the  road  by  the  meeting 
house  came  Dr.  Sheldon's  old  horse,  drawing  Dr.  Shel 
don's  antiquated  chaise,  with  the  doctor  himself  leaning 
back  comfortably  upon  its  worn  cushions.  Captain  Ken 
drick,  not  being  in  the  mood  for  a  chat  just  then  even 
with  as  good  a  friend  as  his  physician,  made  no  move, 
and  the  old  chaise  and  its  occupant  passed  by  and  dis 
appeared  around  the  next  curve.  Sarah-Mary  and  Ed 
gar  and  Bemis  noisily  trooped  out  of  the  house  and 
started  for  school.  Edgar  was  enthusiastically  carolling 


FAIR    HARBOR  15 


a  ditty  which  was  then  popular  among  Bayport  juvenil 
ity.  It  was  reminiscent  of  a  recent  presidential  cam 
paign. 

"Grant  and  Greely  were  fightin'  for  flies, 
Grant  gave  Greely  a  pair  of  black  eyes — " 

The  children,  like  Doctor  Sheldon  and  the  chaise, 
passed  out  of  sight  around  the  bend  of  the  road.  Edgar's 
voice,  more  or  less  tunefully,  drifted  back: 

"Grant  said,  'Do  you  want  any  more?' 
Greely  said,  'No,  for  my  eyes  are  too  sore.'  " 

Sears  Kendrick  crossed  his  knees  and  changed  position 
upon  the  bench.  Obviously  he  could  not  hope  to  go  to 
sea  again  for  months  at  the  very  earliest.  Obviously  he 
could  not  live  during  those  months  at  his  sister's.  She 
would  be  only  too  delighted  to  have  him  do  so,  but  on 
that  point  his  mind  was  made  up.  And,  quite  as  obvi 
ously,  he  could  not  long  exist,  and  pay  an  adequate  price 
for  the  privilege  of  existing,  with  the  small  sum  which 
was  left  after  his  disastrous  voyage  upon  the  sea  of  busi 
ness.  His  immediate  problems  then  were  two :  First,  to 
find  a  boarding  place  which  was  very,  very  cheap.  Sec 
ond,  if  possible,  to  find  a  means  of  earning  a  little  money. 
The  first  of  these  he  might,  perhaps,  solve  after  a  fashion, 
but  the  second — and  he  a  cripple!  He  groaned  aloud. 

Then  he  gradually  became  aware  of  a  new  set  of  sounds, 
sounds  approaching  along  the  road  from  the  direction  in 
which  the  children  and  the  doctor's  equipage  had  dis 
appeared.  The  sounds,  at  first  rather  confused,  gradually 
separated  themselves  into  two  varieties,  one  the  sharp, 
irregular  rattle  of  a  springless  cart,  the  second  a  hoarse 
unmusical  voice  which,  like  Edgar's,  was  raised  in  song. 
But  in  this  case  the  rattle  of  the  cart  caused  the  song  to 
be  broken  unexpectedly  into  jerky  spasms,  so  to  speak. 
Nevertheless,  the  singer  kept  manfully  at  his  task. 


i6  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Now  the  Dreadnought's  a-bowlin'   (Bump!    Rattle)   down 

the  wild  Irish  sea 
Where  the  pass  (Bump!)  engers  are  merry  with  hearts  full 

of  glee, 
While  the  sailors  like  lions   (Gid-dap!     Whafs  the  matter 

with  ye)  walk  the  decks  to  and  fro, 
She's  the  Liverpool  packet  (Bump!   Bang!    Crack!)  Good 

Lord,  let  her  go !" 

Sears  Kendrick  sat  upright  on  the  settee.  Of  course 
he  recognized  the  song,  every  man  who  had  ever  sailed 
salt  water  knew  the  old  Dreadnought  chantey,  but  much 
more  than  that,  he  believed  he  recognized  the  voice  of 
the  singer.  Leaning  forward,  he  watched  for  the  latter 
to  appear. 

Then,  around  the  clump  of  lilacs  which  leaned  over 
Captain  Sol  Snow's  fence  at  the  corner,  came  an  old  white 
horse  drawing  an  old  "truck-wagon,"  the  wagon  painted, 
as  all  Cape  Cod  truck-wagons  then  were  and  are  yet,  a 
bright  blue;  and  upon  the  high  seat  of  the  wagon  sat  a 
chunky  figure,  a  figure  which  rocked  back  and  forth  and 
sang: 

"Now   the   Dreadnought's  a  sailin'  the    (Bang!     Bump!) 

Atlantic  so  wide, 
While  the  (Thump!    Bump!)  dark  heavy  seas  roll  along  her 

black  side, 
With  the  sails  neatly  spread  (Crump!    Jingle!)  and  the  red 

cross  to  show, 
She's  the  Liverpool  packet;  Good  Lord,  let " 

Captain  Kendrick  interrupted  here. 

"Ahoy,  the  Dreadnought!"  he  hailed.  "Dreadnought 
ahoy!" 

"Good  Lord,  let  'er  go !"  roared  the  man  on  the  seat  of  the 
truck-wagon,  finishing  the  stanza  of  his  chanty.  Then  he 
added  "Whoa!"  in  a  mighty  bellow.  The  white  horse 
stopped  in  his  tracks,  as  if  he  had  one  ear  tipped  backward 


FAIR    HARBOR  17 


awaiting  the  invitation.  His  driver  leaned  down  and  peered 
into  the  shadow  of  the  lilac  bush. 

"Who—?"  he  began.  "Eh?  What?  Limpin',  creepin', 
crawlin',  jumpin'  Moses  and  the  prophets!  It  ain't  Cap'n 
Sears  Kendrick,  is  it?  It  is,  by  Henry!  Well,  well,  well, 
WELL,  WELL!" 

Each  succeeding  "well"  was  louder  and  more  emphatic 
than  its  predecessor.  They  were  uttered  as  the  speaker 
rolled,  rather  than  climbed,  down  from  the  high  seat.  Alight 
ing  upon  a  pair  of  enormous  feet  shod  in  heavy  rubber 
boots,  the  tops  of  which  were  turned  down,  he  thumped  up 
the  little  slope  from  the  road  to  the  sidewalk.  Then,  thrust 
ing  over  the  fence  pickets  a  red  and  hairy  hand,  the  size 
of  which  corresponded  to  that  of  the  feet,  he  roared  another 
string  of  delighted  exclamations. 

"Cap'n  Sears  Kendrick,  on  deck  and  all  taut  again !  Well, 
by  the  jumpin',  creepin' !  If  this  ain't — Cap'n  Sears,  sir, 
how  be  you?" 

His  broad-brimmed,  battered  straw  hat  had  fallen  off  in 
his  descent  from  the  wagon  seat,  uncovering  a  partially  bald 
head  and  a  round,  extremely  red  face,  two-thirds  of  which 
was  hidden  by  a  tremendously  thick  and  bristly  tangle  of 
short  gray  whiskers.  The  whiskers  were  now  bisected  by 
a  broad  grin,  a  grin  so  broad  and  so  ecstatic  that  its  wrinkles 
extended  to  the  bulbous  nose  and  the  apple  cheeks  above. 

"Cap'n  Sears,  sir,"  repeated  the  driver  of  the  truck-wagon, 
"I'm  proud  to  see  you  on  deck  again,  sir.  Darned  if  I 
ain't!" 

The  captain  leaned  forward  and  shook  the  big  red  hand 
extended  across  the  fence  pickets. 

"Judah  Cahoon,  you  old  salt  herrin',"  he  cried  heartily, 
"I'm  just  as  glad  to  see  you !  But  what  in  the  world  are  you 
doin'  here  in  Bayport?" 


CHAPTER  II 

MR.  CAHOON'S  grin  vanished  and  the  expression 
of  his  face  above  the  whiskers  indicated  extreme 
surprise. 

"What  am  I  doin'  here  ?"  he  repeated.  "Didn't  you  know 
I  was  here,  Cap'n  Sears?" 

"Of  course  I  didn't.  The  last  I  heard  of  you  you  had 
shipped  as  cook  aboard  the  Gallant  Rover  and  was  bound 
for  Calcutta,  or  Singapore  or  somewhere  in  those  latitudes. 
And  that  was  only  a  year  ago.  What  are  you  doin'  on  the 
Cape  and  pilotin'  that  kind  of  a  craft?"  indicating  the  truck 
wagon. 

The  question  was  ignored.  "Didn't  they  never  tell  you  I 
was  here?"  demanded  Judah.  "Didn't  that  Joel  Macomber 
tell  you  I  been  hailin'  him  every  time  he  crossed  my  bows, 
askin'  about  you  every  day  since  you  run  on  the  rocks? 
Didn't  he  tell  you  that?" 

"No." 

"Never  give  you  my  respects  nor — nor  kind  remember- 
ances,  nor  nawthin'?" 

"Not  a  word.     Never  so  much  as  mentioned  your  name." 

"The  red-headed  shark !" 

"There!  There!  Sshh!  Never  mind  him.  Come  in 
here  and  sit  down  a  minute,  can't  you?  Or  are  you  in  a 
hurry?" 

"Eh  ?  No-o,  I  ain't  in  no  'special  hurry.  Just  got  a  deck 
load  of  seaweed  aboard  carting  it  up  home,  that's  all." 

"Home?    What  home?" 

"Why,  where  I'm  livin'.  I  call  it  home;  anyhow  it's  all 
the  home  I  got.  Eh?  Why,  Cap'n  Sears,  ain't  they  never 
told  you  that  I'm  livin'  at  the  Minot  place  ?" 

18 


FAIR    HARBOR  19 


"The  Minot  place!  Why — why,  man  alive,  you  don't 
mean  the  General  Minot  place,  do  you  ?" 

"Um-hm.  That's  what  folks  down  here  call  it.  There 
ain't  no  Generals  there  though." 

"And  you  are  livin'  in  the  General  Minot  house?  Look 
here,  Judah,  are  you  trying  to  make  a  fool  of  me?" 

Mr.  Cahoon's  countenance — that  portion  of  it  above  the 
whisker  tidemark,  of  course — registered  horror  at  the 
thought.  He  had  been  cook  and  steward  aboard  Captain 
Kendrick's  ships  for  many  voyages  and  his  feeling  for  his 
former  skipper  was  close  kin  to  idolatry. 

"Eh?"  he  gasped.  "Me  try  to  make  a  fool  out  of  you, 
Cap'n  Sears?  Me?  No,  no,  I  got  some  sense  left,  I  hope." 

Kendrick  smiled.  "Oh,  the  thing  isn't  impossible,  Judah," 
he  observed  dryly.  "It  has  been  done.  I  have  been  made  a 
fool  of  and  more  than  once  ....  But  there,  never  mind 
that.  I  want  to  know  what  you  are  doin'  at  the  General 
Minot  place.  Come  aboard  here  and  tell  me  about  it.  You 
can  leave  your  horse,  can't  you?  He  doesn't  look  as  if  he 
was  liable  to  run  away." 

"Run  away!  Him?"  Judah  snorted  disgust.  "Limpin' 
Moses !  He  won't  run  away  for  the  same  reason  old  Cap'n 
Eben  Gould  didn't  say  his  prayers — he's  forgot  how.  I  was 
out  with  that  horse  on  the  flats  last  week  and  the  tide  pretty 
nigh  caught  us.  The  water  in  the  main  channel  was  so 
deep  that  it  was  clean  up  to  the  critter's  garboard  strake,  and 
still,  by  the  creepin',  I  couldn't  get  him  out  of  a  walk.  I 
thought  there  one  spell  he  might  drift  away,  but  I  knew  dum 
well  he'd  never  run  ....  Whoa !  you — you  hipponoceros 
you !"  addressing  the  ancient  animal,  who  was  placidly  gnaw 
ing  at  the  Macomber  hitching  post.  "  'Vast  heavin'  on  that 
post!  Look  at  the  blasted  idiot!"  with  huge  disgust.  "To 
home,  by  the  creepin',  he'll  turn  up  his  nose  at  good  hay  and 
then  he'll  cruise  out  here  and  start  to  swaller  a  wood  fence. 
Whoa!  Back!  Back,  or  I'll— I'll  bore  a  hole  in  you  and 
scuttle  you." 

The  old  horse  condescended  to  back  for  perhaps  two  feet, 
a  proceeding  which  elicited  a  grunt  of  grudging  approval 


20  FAIR    HARBOR 


from  Mr.  Gaboon.  The  latter  then  settled  himself  with  a 
thump  upon  the  settee  beside  Captain  Kendrick. 

"How's  the  spars  splicin'?"  he  inquired,  with  a  jerk  of  his 
thumb  toward  the  captain's  legs.  "Gettin'  so  you  can  navi 
gate  with  'em?  Stand  up  under  sail,  will  they?" 

"Not  for  much  of  a  cruise,"  replied  Sears,  using  the  same 
nautical  phraseology.  "I  shan't  be  able  to  run  under  any 
thing  but  a  jury  rig  for  a  good  while,  I'm  afraid.  But  never 
mind  the  spars.  I  want  to  know  how  you  happen  to  be  down 
here  in  Bayport,  and  especially  what  on  earth  you  are  doin' 
at  the  Minot  place  ?  Somebody  died  and  left  you  a  million  ?" 

Mr.  Gaboon's  whiskers  were  split  again  by  his  wide  grin. 

"If  I  was  left  a  million  I'd  die,"  he  observed  with  em 
phasis.  "No,  no,  nothin'  like  that,  Cap'n.  I'm  there  along 
of  ....  humph!  You  know  young  Ogden  Minot,  don't 
you?" 

"No,  I  guess  I  don't.  I  don't  seem  to  remember  him. 
Ogden  Minot,  you  say?" 

"Sartin.  Why,  you  must  have  run  afoul  of  him,  Cap'n 
Sears.  He  has  a — a  sort  of  home  moorin's  at  a  desk  in 
Barstow  Brothers'  shippin'  office  up  on  State  Street.  Has 
some  kind  of  berth  with  the  firm,  they  tell  me,  partner  or 
somethin'.  You  must  have  seen  him  there." 

"Well,  if  I  have  I  ....  Hold  on  a  minute!  Seems  to 
me  I  do  remember  him.  Tall  fellow,  dresses  like  a  tailor's 
picture ;  speaks  as  if — " 

"As  if  the  last  half  of  every  word  was  comin'  on  the  next 
boat.  That's  him.  Light  complected,  wears  his  whiskers 
wing  and  wing,  like  a  schooner  runnin'  afore  the  wind. 
Same  kind  of  side  whiskers  old  Cap'n  Spencer  of  the  Fare 
well  used  to  carry  that  voyage  when  I  fust  run  afoul  of  you. 
You  was  second  mate  and  I  was  cook,  remember.  You 
recollect  the  skipper's  side  whiskers,  Cap'n  Sears?  Course 
you  do !  Stuck  out  each  side  of  his  face  pretty  nigh  big  as 
old-fashioned  studdin'  sails.  Fo'mast  hands  used  to  call 
'em  the  old  man's  'homeward-bounders.'  Ho,  ho!  Why, 
I've  seen  them  whiskers  blowin' — " 

Kendrick  interrupted. 


FAIR    HARBOR  21 


"Never  mind  Cap'n  Spencer's  whiskers,"  he  said.  "Stick 
to  your  course,  Judah.  What  about  this  Ogden  Minot?" 

"Everythin'  bout  him.  If  'twant  for  him  I  wouldn't  be 
here  now.  No  sir-ee,  'stead  of  settin'  here  swappin'  yarns 
with  you,  Cap'n  Sears,  I'd  be  somewheres  off  Cape  Horn, 
cookin'  lobscouse  and  doughboy  over  a  red-hot  galley  stove. 
Yes  sir,  that's  where  I'd  be.  And  I'd  just  as  soon  be  here, 
and  a  dum  sight  juster,  as  the  feller  said.  Ho,  ho !  Tut,  tut, 
tut !  You  can't  never  tell,  can  you  ?  How  many  times  I've 
stood  in  my  galley  with  a  gale  of  wind  blowing  and  my  feet 
braced  so's  I  wouldn't  pitch  into  the  salt-horse  kittle  every 
time  she  rolled,  and  thinkin' — " 

"There,  there,  Judah !  Bring  her  up,  bring  her  up.  You're 
three  points  off  again/' 

"Eh?  So  I  be,  so  I  be.  I'll  try  and  hold  her  nose  in  the 
notch  from  now  on.  Well,  'twas  last  October,  a  year  ago, 
when  I'd  about  made  up  my  mind  to  go  cook  in  the  Gallant 
Rover,  same  as  you  said.  I  hadn't  signed  articles,  you  un 
derstand,  but  I  was  cal'latin'  to,  and  I  was  down  on  Long 
Wharf  where  the  Rover  was  takin'  cargo,  and  her  skipper, 
Cap'n  Gustavus  Philbrick,  'twas — he  was  a  Cape  man,  one 
of  the  Ostable  Philbricks — he  asked  me  if  I  wouldn't  cruise 
up  to  the  Barstow  Brothers'  office  and  fetch  down  some 
papers  that  was  there  for  him.  So  I  didn't  have  nawthin'  to 
do  'special,  and  'twas  about  time  for  my  eleven  o'clock — 
when  I'm  in  Boston  I  always  cal'late  to  hist  aboard  one 
eleven  o'clock,  rum  and  sweetenen'  'tis  generally,  at  Jerry 
Crockett's  saloon  on  India  Street  and  ....  Aye,  aye,  sir ! 
All  right,  all  right,  Cap'n  Sears.  I'll  keep  her  in  the  notch, 
don't  worry.  Well— er — er — what  was  I  sayin'?  Oh,  yes! 
Well,  I  had  my  eleven  o'clock  and  then  I  cruised  up  to  the 
Barstow  place,  and  the  fust  mate  there,  young  Crosby  Bar- 
stow  'twas,  he  was  talkin'  with  this  Ogden  Minot.  And 
when  I  hove  in  sight  young  Barstow,  he  sings  out:  'And 
here's  another  Cape  Codder,  Ogden,'  he  says.  'You  two 
ought  to  know  each  other.  Cahoon,'  says  he,  'this  is  Mr. 
Ogden  Minot ;  his  folks  hailed  from  Bayport.  That's  down 
your  way,  ain't  it?' 


22  FAIR    HARBOR 


'  'You  bet !'  says  I.  'My  home  port's  Harniss,  and  that's 
right  next  door.  Minot  ?  Minot  ?'  I  says,  tryin'  to  recollect, 
you  understand.  'Seems  to  me  I  used  to  know  a  Minot 
down  that  way.  Why,  yes,  course  I  did!  You  any  relation 
to  old  Ichabod  Minot,  that  skippered  the  Gypsy  Maid  fishin' 
to  the  Banks?  Ichabod  hailed  from — fr©m — Denboro, 
seems  to  me  'twas/ 

"He  said  no  pretty  sharp.  Barstow,  he  laughed  like  fury 
and  wanted  to  know  if  this  Ogden  Minot  looked  like  Ichabod. 
'Is  there  a  family  resemblance?'  he  says.  I  told  him  I 
guessed  not.  'Anyhow,'  says  I,  'I  couldn't  tell  very  well.  I 
only  seen  Ichabod  when  he  was  drunk/  That  tickled  Bar- 
stow  most  to  death.  'You  never  saw  him  but  that  once, 
then?'  he  wanted  to  know.  'Oh,  yes/  says  I,  'I  seen  him 
about  every  time  he  was  on  shore  after  a  fishin'  trip/ 

"That  seemed  to  make  him  laugh  more'n  ever  and  even 
young  Ogden  laughed  some.  Anyhow,  we  got  to  talkin'  and 
I  told  Barstow  how  I  was  cal'latin'  to  go  cook  on  the  Gal 
lant  Rover.  'And  I'm  sick  of  it,'  I  says.  'I'd  like  a  nice 
snug  berth  ashore/  'You  would?'  says  Barstow.  Then  he 
says,  'Humph'/  and  looks  at  Minot.  And  Minot,  he  says, 
'Humph!'  and  looked  at  him.  And  then  they  both  says, 
'Humph !'  and  looked  at  me.  And  afore  I  set  sail  from 
that  office  to  carry  Cap'n  Philbrick's  papers  back  to  him  I'd 
agreed  not  to  sign  on  for  that  v'yage  as  cook  until  I'd  cruised 
down  here  to  Bayport  along  of  young  Ogden  Minot  to  see 
how  I'd  like  to  be  sort  of — of  general  caretaker  and  steve 
dore,  as  you  might  call  it,  at  the  General  Minot  place.  You 
see,  young  Ogden  was  the  General's  grandson  and  he'd  had 
the  property  left  him.  And  'twas  part  of  the  sailin'  orders 
— in  the  old  General's  will,  you  understand — that  it  couldn't 
be  sold,  but  must  always  be  took  care  of  and  kept  up.  Ogden 
could  rent  it  out  but  he  couldn't  sell  it;  that  was  the  pickle 
he  was  in.  Understand,  don't  you,  Capn'  Sears?" 

Kendrick  nodded.  "Why — yes,  I  guess  likely  I  do,"  he 
said.  "But  this  Minot  boy  could  live  in  it  himself,  couldn't 
he?  Why  doesn't  he  do  that?  As  I  remember  it,  it  was 


FAIR    HARBOR 


considerable  of  a  house.  I  should  think  he  would  come 
here  himself  and  live." 

Judah  nodded.  "You  would  think  so,  wouldn't  you?"  he 
agreed.  "But  he  don't  think  so,  and  what's  a  mighty  sight 
more  account,  his  wife  don't  think  so.  She's  one  of  them 
kind  of  women  that — that — well,  when  she  gets  to  heaven — 
course  I  ain't  layin'  no  bets  on  her  gettin'  there,  but  if  she 
does — the  fust  thing  she'll  do  after  she  fetches  port  is  to 
find  out  which  one  of  them  golden  streets  has  got  the  high 
est-toned  gang  livin'  on  it  and  then  start  in  tryin'  to  tie  up 
to  the  wharf  there  herself.  She  wouldn't  live  in  no  Bay- 
port.  No  sir — ee!  She's  got  winter  moorin's  up  in  one  of 
them  streets  back  of  the  Common,  and  summer  times  she's 
down  to  a  place  called — er — er — Nahum — Nehimiah — No — 
jumpin'  prophets !  What's  the  name  of  that  place  out  on  the 
rocks  abaft  Lynn?" 

"Nahant?"  suggested  his  companion. 

"That's  it.  She  and  him  is  to  Nahant  summers.  And 
what  for  /  don't  know,  when  right  here  in  Bayport  is  a 
great,  big,  fine  house  and  land  around  it  and — and  flower 
tubs  in  the  front  yard  and — and  marble  top  tables — and — 
and  haircloth  chairs  and  sofys,  and — and  a  Rogers'  statoo 
in  the  parlor  and — and  ....  Why,  say,  Cap'n  Sears,  you 
ought  to  see  that  house  and  the  things  in  it.  They've  spent 
money  on  that  house  same  as  if  a  five  dollar  bill  wan't 
nawthin'.  Wasted  it,  I  call  it.  The  second  day  I  was  there 
I  wanted  to  brush  off  some  dust  that  was  on  the  chair  seats 
and  I  was  huntin'  round  from  bow  to  stern  lookin'  for  one 
of  them  little  brush  brooms,  you  know,  same  as  you  brush 
clothes  with.  Well,  sir,  I'd  about  give  up  lookin'  when  I 
happened  to  look  on  the  wall  of  the  settin'-room  and  there 
was  one  hangin'  up.  And,  say,  Cap'n  Sears,  I  wisht  you 
could  have  seen  it !  'Twas  triced  up  in  a — a  kind  of  becket, 
as  you  might  say,  made  out  of  velvet — yes,  sir,  by  creepin', 
velvet!  And  the  velvet  had  posies  and  grass  painted  on  it. 
And,  I  don't  know  as  you'll  believe  it,  but  it's  a  fact,  the 
handle  of  that  brush  broom  was  gilded !  Yes  sir,  by  Henry, 
gilded!  'Well,'  thinks  I  to  myself,  'if  this  ain't  then  I  don't 


24  FAIR   HARBOR 


know  what  is !'  I  did  cal'late  that  I  was  gettin'  used  to  style, 
and  high-toned  money-slingin',  but  when  it  comes  to  puttin' 
gold  handles  onto  brush-brooms,  that  had  me  on  my  beam 
ends,  that  did.  And  ain't  it  a  sinful  waste,  Cap'n  Sears,  I 
ask  you ?  Now  ain't  it?  And  what  in  time  is  the  good  of  it ?, 
A  brush -broom  is  just  a  broom,  no  matter  if " 

Again  the  captain  interrupted.  "Yes,  yes,  of  course, 
Judah,"  he  agreed,  laughing ;  "but  what  do  you  do  up  there 
all  by  yourself?  In  that  big  house?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  live  in  the  whole  house.  I  could  if  I  wanted 
to.  Ogden,  he  don't  care  where  I  live  or  what  I  do.  All  he 
wants  of  me,  he  says,  is  to  keep  the  place  lookin'  good,  and 
the  grass  cut  and  one  thing  or  'nother.  He  keeps  hopin'  he's 
goin'  to  rent  it,  you  know,  but  they  won't  nobody  hire  it. 
The  only  thing  a  place  big  as  that  would  be  good  for  is  to 
keep  tavern.  And  we've  got  one  tavern  here  in  Bayport 
already." 

Kendrick  seemed  to  be  thinking.  He  pulled  his  beard.  Of 
course  he  wore  a  beard ;  in  those  days  he  would  have  been 
thought  queer  if  he  had  not.  Even  the  Harvard  students 
who  came  to  Bayport  occasionally  on  summer  tramping 
trips  wore  beards  or  sidewhiskers ;  the  very  callowest  Fresh 
man  sported  and  nourished  a  moustache. 

"So  you  don't  occupy  the  whole  house,  Judah  ?"  asked  the 
captain. 

"No,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Cahoon.  "I  live  out  in  the  back 
part.  There's  the  kitchen  and  woodshed  and  dinin'-room 
out  there  and  a  couple  of  bedrooms.  That's  all  /  want. 
There's  nine  more  bedrooms  in  that  house,  Cap'n,"  he  de 
clared  solemnly.  "That  makes  eleven  altogether.  Now  what 
in  tunket  do  you  cal'late  anybody'd  ever  do  with  eleven  bed 
rooms  ?" 

Kendrick  shook  his  head.  "Give  it  up,  Judah,"  he  said. 
"For  the  matter  of  that,  I  don't  see  what  you  do  with  two. 
Do  you  sleep  in  one  week  nights  and  the  other  on  Sundays  ?" 

Judah  grinned.  "No,  no,  Cap'n,"  he  said.  "I  don't  know 
myself  why  I  keep  that  other  bedroom  fixed  up.  Cal'late  I 
do  it  just  for  fun,  kind  of  makin'  believe  I'm  going  to  have 


FAIR    HARBOR  25 


company,  I  guess.  It  gets  kind  of  lonesome  there  some 
times,  'specially  meal  times  and  evenin's.  There  I  set  at 
mess,  you  know,  grand  as  the  skipper  of  the  Great  Republic, 
cloth  on  the  table,  silver  knife  and  fork,  silver  castor  with 
blue  glass  vinegar  and  pepper-sass  bottles,  great,  big,  elegant 
mustache  cup  with  'Forget  Me  Not'  printed  out  on  it  in 
gold  letters — everything  so  fine  it  couldn't  be  no  finer — but 
by  creeping  sometimes  I  can't  help  f eelin'  lonesome !  Seems 
foolish,  don't  it,  but  I  be." 

Captain  Kendrick  did  not  speak.  He  pulled  at  his  beard 
with  more  deliberation  and  the  look  in  his  eye  was  that  of 
one  watching  the  brightening  dawn  of  an  idea. 

"I  told  Ogden  so  last  time  he  was  down,"  continued  Mr. 
Cahoon.  "He  asked  me  if  I  was  comf'table  and  if  I  wanted 
anything  more  and  I  told  him  I  didn't.  'Only  thing  that  ails 
me/  I  says,  'is  that  I  get  kind  of  lonesome  bein'  by  myself 
so  much.  Sometimes  I  wisht  I  had  comp'ny.'  'Well,  why 
don't  you  have  comp'ny  ?'  says  he.  'You've  got  room  enough, 
lord  knows/  'Yes,'  I  says,  'but  who'll  I  have?'  He  laughed. 
'That's  your  lookout/  says  he.  'You  can't  expect  me  to  hire 
a  companion  for  you/  " 

"Humph!"  Kendrick  regarded  him  thoughtfully.  "So 
you  would  like  company,  would  you,  Judah?" 

"Sartin  sure  I  would,  if  'twas  the  right  kind.  I  got  a  cat 
and  that  helps  a  little  mite.  And  Cap'n  Shubal  Hammond's 
wife  told  me  yesterday  she'd  give  me  a  young  pig  if  I  wanted 
one.  That's  what  I'm  cartin'  home  this  little  mite  of  sea 
weed  for,  to  bed  down  the  pig  sty.  But  cats  and  hogs,  they're 
all  right  enough,  but  they  ain't  human." 

"Do  you  keep  hens?" 

This  apparently  harmless  question  seemed  to  arouse  Mr. 
Cahoon's  ire.  His  whiskers  bristled  and  his  nose  flamed. 

"Hens !"  he  repeated.  "Don't  talk  to  me  about  hens !  No, 
sir,  by  the  prophets,  I  don't  keep  hens  !  But  them  everlastin' 
Fair  Harborers  keep  'em  and  if  they'd  keep  'em  to  home  I 
wouldn't  say  a  word.  But  they  don't.  Half  the  time  they're 
over  my  side  of  the  fence  raisin'  blue  hob  with  my  garden. 


26  FAIR    HARBOR 


Hens !  Don't  talk  to  me  about  'em !  I  hate  the  sight  of  the 
critters." 

Kendrick  smiled.  "And  after  all,"  he  observed,  "hens 
aren't  human,  either." 

Judah  snorted.  "Some  are,"  he  declared,  "and  them's  the 
worst  kind." 

There  was,  doubtless,  a  hidden  meaning  in  this  speech,  but 
if  so  Sears  Kendrick  did  not  seek  to  find  it.  Laying  a  hand 
upon  the  broad  shoulder  of  his  former  sea-cook  he  lifted 
himself  to  his  feet. 

"Judah,"  he  asked,  briskly,  "is  that  seaweed  in  your  cart 
there  dry?" 

"Eh  ?  Dry  ?  Yes,  yes,  dry  as  a  cat's  back.  Been  layin'  on 
the  beach  above  tide  mark  ever  since  last  winter.  Why  ?" 

"Do  you  suppose  you  could  help  me  hoist  myself  aboard?" 

"Aboard  ?  Aboard  that  truck- wagon  ?  For  the  land  sakes, 
what  for?" 

"Because  I  want  a  ride.  I've  been  in  drydock  here  till  I'm 
pretty  nearly  crazy.  I  want  to  go  on  a  cruise,  even  if  it  isn't 
but  a  half  mile  one.  Don't  you  want  to  cart  me  down  to 
your  anchorage  and  let  me  see  how  you  and  General  Minot 
and  the  gilt  whisk  broom  get  along?  I  can  sprawl  on  that 
seaweed  and  be  as  comfortable  as  a  gull  on  a  clam  flat. 
Come  on  now !  Heave  ahead !  Give  us  a  hand  up !" 

"But — limpin'  prophets,  Cap'n  Sears,  I  couldn't  cart  you 
up  the  main  road  of  Bayport  in  a  seaweed  cart.  You,  of  all 
men!  What  do  you  cal'late  folks  would  say  if  they  see  me 
doin'  it?  Course  I'd  love  to  have  you  ride  down  and  see 
how  I'm  livin'.  If  you'd  set  up  on  the  thawt  there,"  indicat 
ing  the  high  seat  of  the  truck-wagon,  "I'd  be  proud  to  have 
you.  But  to  haul  you  along  on  a  load  of  seaweed  that's  goin' 
to  bed  down  a  hog !  Cap'n,  you  know  'twouldn't  be  fittin' ! 
Course  you  do." 

His  horror  at  the  sacrilege  was  so  ludicrous  that  Kendrick 
laughed  aloud.  However,  he  insisted  that  there  was  nothing 
unfitting  in  the  idea ;  it  was  a  good  idea  and  founded  upon 
common-sense. 

"How  long  do  you  think  these  sprung  sticks  of  mine  would 


FAIR   HARBOR  27 


last,"  he  said,  referring  to  his  legs,  "if  they  were  jouncin'  up 
and  down  on  that  seat  aloft  there  ?  And  I  couldn't  climb  up 
even  if  I  wanted  to.  But,  you  and  I  between  us,  Judah,  can 
get  me  in  on  that  seaweed,  and  that's  what  we're  goin'  to  do. 
Come,  come!  Tumble  up!  All  hands  on  deck  now! 
Lively!" 

The  familiar  order,  given  with  a  touch  of  the  old  familiar 
crispness  and  authority,  had  its  effect.  Mr.  Cahoon  argued 
no  more.  Instead  he  sprang  to  attention,  figuratively  speak 
ing. 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!"  he  said.  "Here  she  goes.  Take  it  easy, 
Cap'n;  don't  hurry.  Ease  yourself  down  that  bankin'.  If 
we  was  to  let  go  and  you  come  down  with  a  run  there'd  be 
the  divil  and  all  to  pay,  wouldn't  there  ?  So  ...  so  .... 
Here  we  be,  alongside.  Now Aloft  with  ye." 

They  had  reached  the  road  by  the  tailboard  of  the  wagon. 
And  now  Judah  stooped,  picked  up  his  former  skipper  in  his 
arms  and  swung  him  in  upon  the  load  of  dry  seaweed  as  if 
he  were  a  two  year  old  boy  instead  of  a  full-grown,  and 
very  much  grown,  man. 

"Well,"  he  asked,  as  he  climbed  to  the  seat,  "all  ready  to 
make  sail,  be  we?  Any  message  you  want  to  leave  along 
with  Sary?  She  won't  know  what  end  you've  made,  will 
she?" 

"Oh,  she'll  guess  I've  gone  buggy-ridin'  with  the  doctor. 
He's  been  threatenin'  to  take  me  with  him  'most  any  day 
now.  Sarah'll  be  all  right.  Get  under  way,  Judah." 

"Aye,  aye,  sir.  Git  dap!  Git  dap!  Limpin',  creepin', 
crawlin',  hoppin',  jumpin'  ....  Starboard !  starboard,  you 
son  of  a  Chinee!  Need  a  tug  to  haul  this  critter  into  the 
channel,  I  swan  you  do !  Git  dap !  All  shipshape  aft  there, 
Cap'n  Sears  ?  Good  enough !  let  her  run." 

The  old  white  horse — like  the  whisk  broom  and  the 
Rogers  group,  a  part  of  the  furniture  of  the  General  Minot 
place — plodded  along  the  dusty  road  and  the  blue  truck- 
wagon  rolled  and  rattled  behind  him.  Captain  Kendrick, 
settling  his  invalid  limbs  in  the  most  comfortable  fashion, 
lay  back  upon  the  seaweed  and  stared  at  the  sky  seen  through 


28  FAIR    HARBOR 


the  branches  of  elms  and  silver-leaf  poplars  which  arched 
above.  He  made  no  attempt  to  look  over  the  sides  of  the 
cart.  Raising  himself  upon  an  elbow  to  do  so  entailed  a 
good  deal  of  exertion  and  this  was  his  first  trip  abroad  since 
his  accident.  Besides,  seeing  would  probably  mean  being 
seen  and  he  was  not  in  the  mood  to  answer  the  questions  of 
curious,  even  if  sympathetic,  townsfolk.  Judah  made  sev 
eral  attempts  at  conversation,  but  the  replies  were  not  satis 
factory,  so  he  gave  it  up  after  a  little  and,  as  was  his  habit, 
once  more  broke  forth  in  song.  Judah  Cahoon,  besides  being 
sea  cook  on  many,  many  voyages,  had  been  "chantey  man" 
on  almost  as  many.  His  repertoire  was,  therefore,  exten 
sive  and  at  times  astonishing.  Now,  as  he  rocked  back  and 
forth  upon  the  wagon  seat,  he  caroled,  not  the  Dreadnought 
chantey,  but  another,  which  told  of  a  Yankee  ship  sailing 
down  the  Congo  River,  evidently  in  the  old  days  of  the 
slave  trade. 

"  'Who  do  you  think  is  the  cap'n  of  her? 

Blow,  boys,  blow! 
Old  Holy  Joe,  the  darky  lover, 
Blow,  my  bully  boys,  blow ! 

'What  do  you  think  they've  got  for  dinner? 

Blow,  boys,  blow! 
Hot  water  soup,  but  a  dum  sight  thinner, 

Blow,  my  bully  boys,  blow! 

'Oh,  blow  to-day  and  blow  to-morrer, 

Blow,  boys,  blow! 
And  blow  for  all  old  salts  in  sorrer, 

Blow,  my  bully ' 

"Oh,  say,  Cap'n  Sears!" 

"Yes,  Judah?" 

"They've  put  up  the  name  sign  on  the  Fair  Harbor  since 
you  was  in  Bayport  afore,  ain't  they?  We're  right  off 
abreast  of  it  now.  Can't  you  hist  yourself  up  and  look  over 


FAIR    HARBOR 


29 


the  side?  It's  some  consider'ble  of  a  sign,  that  is.  Lobelia 
she  left  word  to  have  that  sign  painted  and  set  up  last  time 
she  was  here.  She's  over  acrost  in  one  of  them  Eyetalian 
ports  now,  so  I  understand,  her  and  that  feller  she  married. 
Eh  ?  Ain't  that  quite  a  sign,  now,  Cap'n  ?" 

Kendrick,  because  his  driver  seemed  to  be  so  eager,  sat  up 
and  looked  over  the  sideboard  of  the  truck-wagon.  The 
vehicle  was  just  passing  a  long  stretch  of  ornate  black  iron 
fence  in  the  center  of  which  was  a  still  more  ornate  gate 
with  an  iron  arch  above  it.  In  the  curve  of  the  arch  swung 
a  black  sign,  its  edges  gilded,  and  with  this  legend  printed 
upon  it  in  gilt  letters : 


FAIR  HARBOR 
FOR  MARINERS*'  WOMEN 

'Without,  the  stormy  winds  increase, 
Within  the  harbor  all  is  peace." 


Behind  the  fence  was  a  good-sized  tract  of  lawn  heavily 
shaded  with  trees,  a  brick  walk,  and  at  the  rear  a  large  house. 
The  house  itself  was  of  the  stately  Colonial  type  and  its 
simple  dignity  was  in  marked  contrast  to  the  fence. 

Captain  Kendrick  recognized  the  establishment  of  course. 
It,  with  its  next  door  neighbor  the  General  Minot  place,  was 
for  so  many  years  the  home  of  old  Captain  Sylvanus  Sey 
mour.  Captain  Sylvanus,  during  his  lifetime,  was  active 
claimant  for  the  throne  of  King  of  Bayport.  He  was  the 
town's  leading  Democratic  politician,  its  wealthiest  citizen, 
with  possibly  one  exception — its  most  lavish  entertainer — 
with  the  same  possible  exception — and  when  the  Governor 
came  to  the  Cape  on  "Cattle  Show  Day"  he  was  sure  to  be  a 
guest  at  the  Seymour  place — unless  General  Ashahel  Minot, 
who  was  the  exception  mentioned — had  gotten  his  invitation 
accepted  first.  For  General  Minot  was  Bayport's  leading 
Whig,  as  Captain  Sylvanus  was  its  leading  Democrat,  and 


30  FAIR   HARBOR 


the  rivalry  between  the  two  was  intense.  Nevertheless,  they 
were,  in  public  at  least,  extremely  polite  and  friendly,  and 
when  they  did  agree — as  on  matters  concerning  the  village 
tax  rate  and  the  kind  of  doctrine  permitted  to  be  preached  in 
the  Orthodox  meeting-house — their  agreement  was  absolute 
and  overwhelming.  In  their  day  the  Captain  and  the  Gen 
eral  dominated  Bayport  by  sea  and  land. 

But  that  day  had  passed.  They  had  both  been  dead  for 
some  years.  Captain  Seymour  died  first  and  his  place  and 
property  were  inherited  by  his  maiden  daughter,  Miss 
Lobelia  Seymour.  Sears  Kendrick  remembered  Lobelia  as  a 
dressy,  romantic  spinster,  very  much  in  evidence  at  the 
church  socials  and  at  meetings  of  the  Shakespeare  Reading 
Society,  and  who  sang  a  somewhat  shrill  soprano  in  the 
choir. 

Now,  as  he  looked  over  the  side  of  Judah  Gaboon's  truck- 
wagon  and  saw  the  sign  hanging  beneath  the  arch  above  the 
gate  of  the  Seymour  place  he  began  dimly  to  remember  other 
things,  bits  of  news  embodied  in  letters  which  his  sister, 
Sarah  Macomber,  had  written  him  at  various  times.  Lobelia 
Seymour  had — she  had  done  something  with  the  family 
home,  something  unusual.  What  was  it  ?  Why,  yes  .... 

"Judah,"  he  said,  "Lobelia  Seymour  turned  that  place  into 
a — a  sort  of  home,  didn't  she?" 

Judah  twisted  on  the  wagon  seat  to  stare  at  him. 

"What  are  you  askin'  me  that  for,  Cap'n  Sears?"  he 
demanded.  "You  know  more  about  it  than  I  do,  I  guess 
likely.  Anyhow,  you  ought  to;  you  was  brought  up  in 
Bayport;  I  wasn't." 

"Yes,  but  I've  been  away  from  it  ten  times  longer  than 
I've  been  in  it.  I'd  forgotten  all  about  Lobelia.  Seems  to 
me  Sarah  wrote  me  somethin'  about  her,  though,  and  that 
she  had  turned  her  father's  place  into  a  home  for  women." 

"For  manners'  women,  that's  what  she  calls  it.  Didn't 
you  see  it  on  the  sign?  Ho,  ho!  that's  a  good  one,  ain't  it, 
Cap'n  Sears?  'Mariners'  women!'  Course  what  it  means 
is  sea  cap'ns  widders  and  sisters  and  such,  but  it  does  sound 
kind  of  Brigham  Youngy,  don't  it?  Haw,  haw!  Well,  fur's 


FAIR    HARBOR  31 


that  goes  I  have  known  mariners  that — Hi!  'Vast  heavin' 
there !  What  in  time  you  tryin'  to  do,  carry  away  that  gate 

post?  Whoa!  Jumpin'  creepin',  limpin' Whoa!  Look 

at  the  critter!"  in  huge  disgust  and  referring  to  the  white 
horse,  who  had  suddenly  evinced  a  desire  to  turn  in  at  a 
narrow  driveway  and  to  gallop  while  doing  so.  "Look  at 
him!"  repeated  Judah.  "When  I  go  up  to  the  depot  he'll 
stand  right  in  the  middle  of  the  railroad  track  and  go  to 
sleep.  I  have  to  whale  the  timbers  out  of  him  to  get  him 
awake  enough  to  step  ahead  so's  a  train  of  cars  won't  stave 
in  his  broadside.  But  get  him  home  here  where  he  can  see 
the  barn,  the  place  where  he  knows  I  stow  the  oats,  and  he 
wants  to  run  right  over  top  of  a  stone  wall.  Can't  hardly 
hold  him,  I  can't.  Who-a-a !  .  .  .  Well,  Cap'n  Sears,  here 
we  be  at  the  General  Minot  place.  Here's  where  I  sling  my 
hammock  these  days." 

Kendrick  looked  about  him,  at  the  grassy  back  yard,  with 
the  ancient  settee  beneath  the  locust  tree,  the  raspberry  and 
currant  bushes  along  the  wall,  the  venerable  apple  and  pear 
trees  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  at  the  trellis  over  the 
back  door  and  the  grape  vine  heavily  festooning  it,  at  the 
big,  weather-beaten  barn,  carriage  house  and  pig-pens  be 
yond.  Turning,  he  looked  upward  at  the  high  rambling 
house,  its  dormers  and  gables,  its  white  clapboards  and  green 
window  blinds.  The  sunlight  streamed  over  it,  but  beneath 
the  vine-hung  lattice  and  under  the  locust  tree  were  coolness 
and  shadow.  The  wing  of  the  big  house,  projecting  out  to 
the  corner  of  the  drive,  shut  off  the  view  to  or  from  the  road. 
Somehow,  the  whole  yard,  with  its  peace  and  quiet  and  sun 
shine  and  shadow,  and  above  all,  its  retirement,  made  a 
great  appeal.  It  seemed  so  homelike,  so  shut  away,  so  com 
forting,  like  a  sheltered  little  backwater  where  a  storm- 
beaten  craft  might  lie  snug. 

Mr.  Cahoon  made  anxious  inquiry. 

"Wnat  do  you  think  of  it,  Cap'n?"  he  asked. 

His  visitor  did  not  reply.  Instead  he  said,  "Judah,  I'd 
like  to  see  your  quarters  inside,  may  I  ?" 


32  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Sartin  sure  you  may.  Right  this  way.  Look  out  for  the 
rocks  in  the  channel,"  indicating  the  brick  floor  beneath  the 
lattice.  "Two  or  three  of  them  bricks  stick  up  more'n  they 
ought  to.  Twice  since  I've  been  here  the  stem  of  one  of  my 
boots  has  fetched  up  on  them  bricks  and  I've  all  but  pitch- 
poled.  Take  your  time,  Cap'n  Sears,  take  your  time.  Here, 
lean  on  my  shoulder,  I'll  pilot  you." 

The  captain  smiled.  "Much  obliged,  Judah,"  he  said,  "but 
I  shan't  need  your  shoulder.  There  aren't  any  stairs  to 
climb,  are  there?  Stair  climbin'  is  too  much  for  me  yet 
awhile.  Perhaps  it  will  always  be.  I  don't  know." 

The  tone  in  which  he  uttered  the  last  sentence  caused  his 
companion  to  turn  his  head  and  regard  him  with  concern. 

"Sho,  sho,  sho!"  he  exclaimed,  hastily.  "What  kind  of 
talk's  that,  Cap'n !  I'll  live  to  see  you  shin  up  and  hang  your 
hat  on  the  main  truck  yet  ....  There,  here's  the  galley. 
Like  it,  do  you?" 

The  "galley"  was,  of  course,  the  kitchen.  It  was  huge 
and  low  and  very  old-fashioned.  Also  it  was,  just  now,  spot 
lessly  clean.  From  it  opened  the  woodshed,  and  toward  the 
front,  the  dining  room. 

"I  don't  eat  in  here  much,"  observed  Judah,  referring  to 
the  dining  room.  "Generally  mess  in  the  galley.  Comes 
more  natural  to  me.  The  settin'  room,  and  back  parlor  and 
front  parlor  are  out  for'ard  yonder.  Come  on,  Cap'n  Sears." 

The  captain  shook  his  head.  "Never  mind  them  just 
now,"  he  said.  I  want  to  see  the  bedrooms,  those  you  use, 
Judah.  That  is,  unless  they're  up  aloft." 

"No,  no.  Right  on  the  lower  deck,  both  of  'em.  Course 
there  is  plenty  more  up  aloft,  but,  as  I  told  you,  I  never 
bother  'em.  Here's  my  berth,"  opening  a  door  from  the 
sitting  room.  "And  here's  what  I  call  my  spare  stateroom. 
I  keep  it  ready  for  comp'ny.  Not  that  I  ever  have  any,  you 
understand." 

Judah's  bedroom  was  small  and  snug.  The  "spare  state 
room"  was  a  trifle  larger.  In  both  were  the  old-fashioned 


FAIR    HARBOR  33 


mahogany  furniture  of  our  great-grandfathers.  Mr.  Ca- 
hoon  apologized  for  it. 

"Kind  of  old-timey  stuff  down  below  here,"  he  explained. 
"Just  common  folks  used  these  rooms,  I  judge  likely.  But 
you'd  ought  to  see  them  up  on  the  quarter  deck.  There's 
your  high-toned  fixin's !  Marble  tops  to  the  bureaus  and 
tables  and  washstands,  and  fruit — peaches  and  pears  and  all 
sorts — carved  out  on  the  headboards  of  the  beds,  and  wreaths 
on  the  walls  all  made  out  of  shells,  and — and  kind  of  brass 
doodads  at  the  tops  of  the  window  curtains.  Style,  don't 
talk !  .  .  .  Sort  of  a  pretty  look-off  through  that  deadlight, 
ain't  there,  Cap'n  Sears?  Seems  so  to  me." 

Kendrick  had  raised  the  window  shade  of  the  spare 
stateroom  and  was  looking  out.  The  view  extended  across 
the  rolling  hills  and  little  pine  groves  and  cranberry  bogs,  to 
the  lower  road  with  its  white  houses  and  shade  trees.  And 
beyond  the  lower  road  were  more  hills  and  pines,  a  pretty 
little  lake — Crowell's  Pond,  it  was  called — sand  dunes  and 
then  the  blue  water  of  the  Bay.  The  captain  looked  at  the 
view  for  a  few  moments,  then,  turning,  looked  once  more 
at  the  room  and  its  furniture. 

"So  you've  never  had  a  passenger  in  your  spare  stateroom, 
Judah?"  he  asked. 

"Nary  one,  not  yet." 

"Expectin'  any?" 

"Nary  one.    Don't  know  nobody  to  expect." 

"But  you  think  it  would  be  all  right  if  you  did  have  some 
one?  Your  er — owner — young  Minot,  I  mean,  wouldn't 
object?" 

"Object!  No,  no.  He  told  me  to.  'I  should  think  you'd 
die  livin'  here  alone/  he  says.  'Why  don't  you  take  a  boarder? 
I  would  if  I  was  you/  " 

Sears  Kendrick  stopped  looking  at  the  room  and  its  furni 
ture  and  turned  his  gaze  upon  his  former  cook. 

"Take  a  boarder?"  he  repeated.  "Did  Ogden  Minot  tell 
you  to  take  a  boarder?  And  do  you  think  he  meant  it?" 

"Sartin  sure  he  meant  it.  He  don't  care  what  I  do — in 
reason,  of  course." 


34  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Humph!  .  .  .  Well,  then,  Judah,  why  don't  you  take 
one?" 

"Eh?  Take  one  what?  A  boarder?  Who'd  I  take,  for 
thunder's  sakes?" 

Captain  Kendrick  smiled. 

"Me,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  III 

FOR  the  half  hour  which  followed  the  captain's  utter 
ance  of  that  simple  little  word,  "Me,"  exclamation, 
protestation  and  argument  heated  and  unwontedly  dis 
turbed  the  atmosphere  of  the  Minot  spare  stateroom  and 
when  the  discussion  adjourned  there,  of  the  little  back  yard. 
The  old  white  horse,  left  to  himself  and  quite  forgotten, 
placidly  meandered  on  until  he  reached  a  point  where  he 
could  reach  the  tender  foliage  of  a  young  pear  tree  which 
leaned  over  the  wall  toward  him.  Then,  with  a  sigh  of  con 
tent,  he  proceeded  to  devour  the  tree.  No  one  paid  the  least 
attention  to  him.  Captain  Kendrick,  now  seated  upon  the 
bench  beneath  the  locust,  was  quietly  but  persistently  ex 
plaining  why  he  desired  to  become  a  boarder  and  lodger  at 
Mr.  Cahoon's  quarters  on  the  after  lower  deck  of  the  Gen 
eral  Minot  house,  and  Judah  was  vociferously  and  profanely 
expostulating  against  such  an  idea. 

"It  ain't  fittin',  I  tell  you,"  he  declared,  over  and  over 
again.  "It  ain't  fittin',  it's  the  craziest  notion  ever  I  heard 
tell  of.  What'll  folks  think  if  they  know  you're  here — you, 
Cap'n  Sears  Kendrick,  that  all  hands  knows  is  the  smartest 
cap'n  that  ever  sailed  out  of  Boston  harbor?  What'll  they 
say  if  they  know  you've  hove  anchor  along  of  me,  stayin' 
here  in  the — in  the  fo'castle  of  this  house ;  eatin'  the  grub  I 
cook—" 

"I've  eaten  your  cookin'  for  a  good  many  months  at  a 
stretch,  Judah.  You  never  heard  me  find  any  fault  with  it, 
did  you?" 

"Don't  make  no  odds.  That's  different,  Cap'n  Sears,  and 
you  know  'tis.  It's  ridiculous,  stark,  ravin'  ridiculous." 

"So  you  don't  care  for  my  company  ?" 

"Don't  tuk  so!  Wouldn't  I  be  proud  to  have  ye? 

35 


36  FAIR    HARBOR 


Wouldn't  I  ruther  have  you  aboard  here  than  anybody  else 
on  earth?  Course  I  would!" 

"All  right.  And  you're  goin'  to  have  me.  So  that's  all 
settled." 

"Settled!  Who  said  'twas  settled?  Course  'tain't  settled. 
You  don't  understand,  Cap'n  Sears.  'Tain't  how  I  feel 
about  it.  'Tain't  even  maybe  how  you  feel  about  it.  But 
how'll  your  sister  feel  about  it?  How'll  Joel  feel?  How'll 
the  doctor  feel?  How'll  the  folks  in  town  feel?  How'll — " 

"Oh,  shh!  shh!  Avast,  Judah!  How'll  the  cat  feel? 
And  the  pig?  What  do  I  care?  How'll  your  old  horse  feel 
if  he  eats  the  other  half  of  that  pear  tree?  That's  consider 
ably  more  important." 

Judah  turned,  saw  the  combination  of  ancient  equine  and 
youthful  tree  and  rushed  bellowing  to  the  rescue  of  the 
latter.  When  he  returned,  empty  of  profanity  and  copiously 
perspiring,  his  former  skipper  was  ready  for  him. 

"Listen,  Judah,"  he  said.  "Listen,  and  keep  your  main 
hatch  closed  for  five  minutes,  if  you  can.  I  want  to  come 
here  to  board  with  you  for  a  while  and  I've  got  the  best 
reasons  on  earth.  Keep  still  and  I'll  tell  you  again  what  they 
are." 

He  proceeded  to  give  those  reasons.  They  were  that  he 
had  little  money  and  must  therefore  live  inexpensively.  He 
would  not  remain  at  his  sister's  because  she  had  more  than 
enough  care  and  work  in  her  own  family.  George  Kent 
boarded  with  her  and  one  boarder  was  sufficient.  Then — 
and  this  was  the  principal  reason  for  selecting  the  General 
Minot  spare  stateroom — he  wished  to  live  somewhere  away 
from  observation,  where  he  could  be  alone,  or  nearly  alone, 
where  he  would  not  be  plagued  with  questions. 

"You  see,  Judah,"  he  said,  "I've  had  a  bump  in  more  ways 
than  one.  My  pride  was  knocked  flat  as  well  as  my  pocket 
book.  The  doctor  says  I've  got  to  stay  ashore  for  a  good 
while.  He  says  it  will  be  months  before  I'm  ready  for  sea — 
if  I'm  ever  ready — " 

"Hold  on,  hold  on!  Cap'n  Sears,  you  mustn't  talk  so. 
Course  you'll  be  ready." 


FAIR    HARBOR  37 


"All  right,  we'll  hope  I  will.  But  while  I'm  gettin'  ready 
to  be  ready  I  want  to  lie  snug.  I  don't  want  to  see  a  whole 
lot  of  people  and  have  to  listen  to — to  sympathy  and  all  that. 
I've  made  a  fool  of  myself,  and  that  kind  of  a  fool  doesn't 
deserve  sympathy.  And  I  don't  want  it,  anyhow.  Give  me 
a  pair  of  sound  spars  and  my  health  once  more  and  you 
won't  find  me  beggin'  for  sympathy — no,  nor  anything 
else  ....  But  there,"  he  added,  straightening  and  throw 
ing  back  his  shoulders  in  the  way  Judah  had  seen  him  do  so 
often  on  shipboard  and  which  his  mates  had  learned  to  recog 
nize  as  a  sign  that  the  old  man's  mind  was  made  up,  "that's 
enough  of  that.  Let's  stick  to  the  course.  I  like  this  place 
of  yours,  Judah,  and  I'm  comin'  here  to  live.  I'm  weak  yet 
and  you  can  throw  me  out,  of  course,"  he  added,  "but  I  tell 
you  plainly  you  can't  talk  me  out,  so  it's  no  use  to  try." 

Nevertheless,  Mr.  Cahoon  kept  on  trying  and,  when  he 
did  give  in  only  gave  in  halfway.  If  Captain  Sears  was 
bound  to  do  such  a  fool  thing  he  didn't  know  how  he  was 
going  to  stop  him,  but  at  least  he  did  insist  that  the  captain 
should  take  a  trial  cruise  before  signing  on  for  the  whole 
voyage. 

"I  tell  you  what  you  do,  Cap'n  Sears,"  he  said.  "You 
make  me  a  little  visit  of — of  two,  three  days,  say.  Then,  if 
you  cal'late  you  can  stand  the  grub — and  me — and  if  the 
way  Bayport  folks'll  be  talkin'  ain't  enough  to  send  you 
back  to  Sary's  again,  why — why,  then  I  suppose  you  can 
stay  right  along,  if  you  want  to.  '7 "would  be  fine  to  have 
you  aboard!  Whew!" 

He  grinned  from  ear  to  ear.  The  captain  accepted  the 
compromise. 

"All  right,  Judah,"  he  said.  "We'll  call  the  first  few  days 
a  visit  and  I'll  begin  by  stayin'  to  dinner  now.  How'll  that 
do,  eh?" 

Mr.  Cahoon  affirmed  that  it  would  do  finely.  The  only 
drawback  was  that  there  was  nothing  in  the  house  for  din 
ner. 

"I  was  cal'latin'  to  go  down  to  the  shore,"  he  said,  "and 


38  FAIR    HARBOR 


dig  a  bucket  of  clams.  Course  they'll  do  well  enough  for  me, 
but  for  you — " 

"For  me  they  will  be  just  the  ticket,"  declared  Kendrick. 
"Go  ahead  and  dig  'em,  Judah.  And  on  the  way  stop  and  tell 
Sarah  I'm  goin'  to  stay  here  and  help  eat  'em.  After  dinner 
— well,  after  dinner  I  shall  have  to  go  back  there  again,  I 
suppose,  but  to-morrow  I'm  comin'  up  here  to  stay." 

So,  still  under  protest,  Judah,  having  unloaded  the  sea 
weed,  climbed  once  more  to  the  high  seat  of  the  truck- wagon 
and  the  old  horse  dragged  him  out  of  the  yard.  After  the 
row  of  trees  bordering  the  road  had  hidden  him  from  sight 
Kendrick  could  hear  the  rattle  of  the  cart  and  a  fragment  of 
the  Dreadnought  chantey. 

"Now  the  Dreadnought's  becalmed  on  the  banks  of  New 
foundland, 

Where  the  water's  all  green  and  the  bottom's  all  sand. 
Says  the  fish  of  the  ocean  that  swim  to  and  fro : 
'She's  the  Liverpool  packet,  good  Lord,  let  her  go.' " 

Rattle  and  chanty  died  away  in  the  distance.  Quiet,  warm 
and  lazy,  settled  down  upon  the  back  yard  of  the  General 
Minot  place.  A  robin  piped  occasionally  and,  from  some 
where  off  to  the  left,  hens  clucked,  but  these  were  the  only 
sounds.  Kendrick  judged  that  the  hens  must  belong  to 
neighbors ;  Judah  had  expressed  detestation  of  all  poultry. 
There  was  not  sufficient  breeze  to  stir  the  branches  of  the 
locust  or  the  leaves  of  the  grapevine.  The  captain  leaned 
back  on  the  settee  and  yawned.  He  felt  a  strong  desire  to 
go  to  sleep. 

Now  sleeping  in  the  daytime  had  always  been  a  trick 
which  he  despised  and  against  which  he  had  railed  all  his  life. 
He  had  declared  times  without  number  that  a  man  who 
slept  in  the  daytime — unless  of  course  he  had  been  on  watch 
all  night  or  something  like  that — was  a  loafer,  a  good  for 
nothing,  a  lubber  too  lazy  to  be  allowed  on  earth.  The  day 
was  a  period  made  for  decent,  respectable  people  to  work  in, 
and  for  a  man  who  did  not  work,  and  love  to  work,  Captain 


FAIR    HARBOR  39 


Sears  Kendrick  had  no  use  whatever.  Many  so-called  able 
seamen,  and  even  first  and  second  mates,  had  received  pains 
taking  instructions  in  this  section  of  their  skipper's  code. 

But  now — now  it  was  different.  Why  shouldn't  he  sleep 
in  the  daytime  ?  There  was  nothing  else  for  him  to  do.  He 
had  no  business  to  transact,  no  owners  to  report  to,  no  vessel 
to  load  or  unload  or  to  fit  for  sea.  He  had  heard  the  doctor's 
whisper — not  meant  for  his  ears — that  his  legs  might  never 
be  right  again,  and  the  word  "might"  had,  he  believed,  been 
substituted  for  one  of  much  less  ambiguous  meaning.  No, 
all  he  was  fit  for,  he  reflected  bitterly,  was  to  sit  in  the  sun 
and  sleep,  like  an  old  dog  with  the  rheumatism.  He  sighed, 
settled  himself  upon  the  bench  and  closed  his  eyes. 

But  he  opened  them  again  almost  at  once.  During  that 
very  brief  interval  of  darkness  there  had  flashed  before  his 
mind  a  picture  of  a  small  park  in  New  York  as  he  had  once 
seen  it  upon  a  summer  Sunday  afternoon.  The  park  walks 
had  been  bordered  with  rows  of  benches  and  upon  each 
bench  slumbered  at  least  one  human  derelict  who,  appar 
ently,  realized  his  worthlessness  and  had  given  up  the  fight. 
Captain  Kendrick  sat  upright  on  the  settee,  beneath  the 
locust  tree.  Was  he,  too,  giving  up — surrendering  to  Fate? 
No,  by  the  Lord,  he  was  not !  And  he  was  not  going  to  drop 
off  to  sleep  on  that  settee  like  one  of  those  tramps  on  a 
park  bench. 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  picked  up  his  cane,  and  started  to 
walk — somewhere.  Direction  made  little  difference,  so  long 
as  he  kept  awake  and  kept  going.  There  was  a  path  leading 
off  between  the  raspberry  and  currant  bushes,  and  slowly, 
but  stubbornly,  he  limped  along  that  path.  The  path  ended 
at  a  gate  in  a  white  picket  fence.  The  gate  was  unlatched 
and  there  was  an  orchard  on  the  other  side  of  it.  Captain 
Sears  opened  the  gate  and  limped  on  under  the  apple  trees. 
They  were  old  trees  and  large  and  the  shade  they  cast  was 
cool  and  pleasant.  The  soft  green  slope  beneath  them 
tempted  him  strongly.  He  was  beginning  to  realize  that 
those  shaky  legs  of  his  were  tiring  in  this,  the  longest  walk 
they  had  attempted  since  the  accident.  He  had  a  mind  to 


40  FAIR    HARBOR 


sit  down  upon  the  bank  beneath  the  apple  trees  and  rest. 
Then  he  remembered  the  mental  picture  of  the  tramps  on 
the  park  benches  and  stubbornly  refused  to  yield.  Leaning 
more  heavily  upon  his  cane,  he  limped  on. 

The  path  emerged  from  beneath  the  apple  trees,  ascended 
a  little  rise  and  disappeared  around  the  shoulder  of  a  high 
thick  clump  of  lilacs.  Kendrick,  tiring  more  and  more  rap 
idly,  plodded  on.  His  suffering  limbs  were,  so  to  speak, 
shrieking  for  mercy  but  he  would  not  give  it  to  them.  He 
set  himself  a  "stint" ;  he  would  see  what  was  beyond  the 
clump  of  lilacs,  then  he  would  rest,  and  then  he  would 
hobble  back  to  the  Minot  yard.  Incidentally  he  realized 
that  he  had  been  a  fool  ever  to  leave  it. 

His  teeth  grimly  set  and,  each  step  a  labor,  he  plodded 
up  the  little  rise  and  turned  the  corner  of  the  lilac  bushes. 
There  he  stopped,  not  entirely  because  his  "stint"  was  done, 
but  because  what  he  saw  surprised  him. 

Beyond  the  lilacs  was  a  small  garden,  or  rather  a  series 
of  small  gardens.  The  divisions  between  them  appeared  to 
be  exactly  the  same  size  and  the  plots  themselves  precisely 
the  same  size  and  shape.  There  were — although  the  cap 
tain  did  not  learn  this  until  later — seven  of  these  plots,  each 
exactly  six  by  nine  feet.  But  there  resemblance  ceased,  for 
each  was  planted  and  arranged  with  a  marked  individuality. 
For  example,  the  one  nearest  the  lilac  bushes  was  laid  out 
in  a  sort  of  checkerboard  pattern  of  squares,  one  square 
containing  a  certain  sort  of  old-fashioned  flower  and  its 
neighbors  other  varieties.  The  plot  adjoining  the  checker 
board  was  arranged  in  diamonds  and  spirals ;  the  planting 
here  was  floral  also,  whereas  the  next  was  evidently  utili 
tarian,  being  given  up  entirely  to  corn,  potatoes,  onions, 
beets  and  other  vegetables.  And  the  next  seemed  to  be 
covered  with  nothing  except  a  triumphant  growth  of  weeds. 

At  the  rear  of  these  odd  garden  plots  was  a  little  octag 
onal  building,  evidently  a  summer  house.  Over  its  door,  a 
door  fronting  steps  leading  down  to  the  gardens,  was  a  sign 
bearing  the  name  "The  Eyrie."  And  behind  the  summer- 
house  was  a  stretch  of  rather  shabby  lawn,  a  half  dozen 


FAIR    HARBOR  41 


trees,  and  the  rear  of  a  large  house.  Captain  Sears  recog 
nized  the  house  as  the  Seymour  residence,  now  the  "Fair 
Harbor."  He  had  strayed  off  the  course  and  was  trespass 
ing  upon  his  neighbors'  premises.  This  fact  was  immedi 
ately  brought  to  his  attention.  From  somewhere  at  the  rear 
of  the  gardens  a  shrill  feminine  voice  exclaimed: 

"Mercy  on  us!     Who's  that?" 

And  another  feminine  voice  chimed  in: 

"Eh!     I  declare  it's  a  man,  ain't  it?" 

And  the  first  voice  observed  sharply: 

"Of  course  it  is.  You  didn't  think  I  thought  it  was  a  cow, 
did  you?" 

"But  what's  he  doin'  here  ?     Is  he  a  tramp  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  I'm  going  to  find  out.  Hi !  Here ! 
You — man — where  are  you  going?" 

Captain  Sears  had,  by  this  time,  located  the  voices  as 
coming  from  the  "Eyrie,"  the  summer-house  with  the  poeti 
cal  name.  He  had  so  far,  however,  been  able  to  see  noth 
ing  of  the  speakers.  But  now  the  tangle  of  woodbine  and 
morning-glory  which  draped  the  front  of  the  summer-house 
was  drawn  aside  and  revealed  a  rustic  window — or  un- 
glazed  window  opening — with  two  heads  framed  in  it  like 
a  double  portrait.  Both  of  these  heads  were  feminine,  but 
one  was  thin-faced  and  sharp-featured,  and  gray-haired, 
while  the  other  was  like  a  full  moon — a  full  moon  with 
several  chins — and  its  hair  was  a  startlingly  vivid  black 
parted  in  the  middle  and  with  a  series  of  very  regular  ripples 
on  each  side. 

It  was  the  thin  face  which  was  hailing  him.  The  other 
was  merely  staring,  open-eyed  and  open-mouthed. 

"Here,  you — man!"  repeated  the  shrill  voice — belonging 
to  the  thin  face.  "Where  are  you  going?" 

The  captain  smiled.  "Why,  nowhere  in  particular, 
ma'am,"  he  replied.  "I  was  just  figurin'  that  I'd  gone  about 
as  far  as  I  could  this  voyage." 

His  smile  became  a  chuckle,  but  there  were  no  symptoms 
of  amusement  visible  upon  the  faces  framed  in  the  window 


42  FAIR    HARBOR 


of  the  Eyrie.  The  thin  lips  merely  pressed  tighter  and  the 
plump  ones  opened  wider,  that  was  all. 

"Why  don't  you  answer  my  question?"  demanded  the 
thin  woman.  "What  are  you  doing  on  these  premises?" 

"Why,  nothin'  in  particular,  ma'am.  I  was  just  tryin' 
to  take  a  little  walk  and  not  makin'  a  very  good  job  at  it." 

There  was  an  interruption  here.  The  full  moon  broke  in 
to  ask  a  question  of  its  own. 

"Who  is  he?     What's  he  talkin'  about?"  it  demanded. 

"I  don't  know  who  he  is — yet." 

"Well,  what's  he  talkin'  about  ?    Make  him  speak  louder." 

"I  will,  if  you  give  me  a  chance.  He  says  he  is  taking  a 
walk.  What  are  you  taking  a  walk  in  here  for?  Don't 
you  know  it  isn't  allowed  ?" 

"Why,  no,  ma'am,  I  didn't.  In  fact  I  didn't  realize  I  was 
in  here  until  I — well — until  I  got  here." 

"What  is  he  sayin'?"  demanded  the  moon- face  again,  and 
somewhat  testily.  "I  can't  hear  a  word." 

Now  the  captain's  tone  had  been  at  least  ordinarily  loud, 
so  it  was  evident  that  the  plump  woman's  hearing  was  de 
fective.  Her  curiosity,  however,  was  not  in  the  least  im 
paired. 

"What's  that  man  talkin'  about  now  ?"  she  persisted.  Her 
companion  became  impatient. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  snapped.  "Do  give  me  a  chance, 
won't  you  ?  I  think  he's  been  drinking.  He  says  he  doesn't 
know  where  he  is  or  how  he  got  here." 

Kendrick  thought  it  high  time  to  protest.  Also  to  raise 
his  voice  when  doing  so. 

"That  wasn't  exactly  it,"  he  shouted.  "I  was  takin'  a 
little  walk,  that's  all.  I  have  to  navigate  pretty  slow  for 
my  legs  aren't  just  right." 

"What  did  he  say  wa'n't  right?"  demanded  the  plump 
female. 

"His  legs." 

"Eh!     Legs!     What's  he  talkin'  about  his  legs  for?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!  Do  be  still  a  minute.  It's  his  head 
that  isn't  right,  I  guess  he  means.  .  .  .  Don't  you  know 


FAIR    HARBOR  43 


you're  trespassing?  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  in 
here?" 

"Well,  ma'am,  I  didn't  mean  anything  in  particular.  I 
just  happened  in  by  accident.  I'm  sorry." 

"Humph !  You  didn't  come  in  here  to  run  off  with  any 
thing  that  didn't  belong  to  you,  I  hope." 

The  captain  looked  at  her  for  a  moment.  Then  his  lip 
twitched. 

"No,  ma'am,"  he  said,  solemnly,  "I  didn't  come  with  that 
idea— but— " 

"But  ?     What  do  you  mean  by  'but'  ?" 

"But  I  didn't  realize  what  there  was  in  here  to  run  off 
with.  If  I  had  .  .  .  There,  I  guess  I'd  better  go.  Good 
day,  ladies.  Sorry  I  troubled  you." 

He  lifted  his  cap,  turned,  and  limped  out  of  sight  around 
the  clump  of  lilacs.  From  behind  him  came  a  series  of 
indignant  gasps  and  exclamations. 

"Why — why —  Well,  I  never  in  all  my  born  days !  The 
saucy,  impudent — " 

And  the  voice  of  the  moon-faced  one  raised  in  bewil 
dered  entreaty: 

"What  was  it?  What  did  he  say?  Elviry  Snowden,  why 
don't  you  tell  me  what  'twas  he  said?'' 

Captain  Kendrick  hobbled  back  to  the  Minot  yard.  He 
hobbled  through  the  orchard  gate,  leaving  it  ajar,  and  reach 
ing  the  bench  beneath  the  locust  tree,  collapsed  upon  it. 
For  some  time  he  was  conscious  of  very  little  except  the 
ache  in  his  legs  and  the  fact  that  breathing  was  a  difficult 
and  jerky  operation.  Then,  as  the  fatigue  and  pain  ceased 
to  be  as  insistent,  the  memory  of  his  interview  with  the 
pair  in  the  Eyrie  returned  to  him  and  he  began  to  chuckle. 
After  a  time  he  fancied  that  he  heard  a  sympathetic  chuckle 
behind  him.  It  seemed  to  come  from  the  vegetable  garden, 
Judah's  garden,  which,  so  Mr.  Cahoon  told  his  former  skip 
per,  he  had  set  out  himself  and  was  "sproutin'  and  comin' 
up  better'n  ary  other  garden  in  the  town  of  Bayport,  if  I  do 
say  it  as  shouldn't." 

Kendrick  could  not  imagine  who  could  be  chuckling  in 


44  FAIR    HARBOR 


that  garden.  Also  he  could  not  imagine  where  the  chuckler 
could  be  hiding,  unless  it  was  behind  the  rows  of  raspberry 
and  currant  bushes.  Slowly  and  painfully  he  rose  to  his 
feet  and  peered  over  the  bushes.  Then  the  mystery  was 
explained.  The  "chuckles"  were  clucks.  A  flock  of  at 
least  a  dozen  healthy  and  energetic  hens  were  enthusiastically 
busy  in  the  Cahoon  beds.  Their  feet  were  moving  like 
miniature  steam  shovels  and  showers  of  earth  and  infant 
vegetables  were  moving  likewise.  Judah  had  boasted  that 
the  fruits  of  his  planting  were  "comin'  up."  If  he  had 
seen  them  at  that  moment  he  would  have  realized  how  fast 
they  were  coming  up. 

The  sight  aroused  Captain  Kendrick's  ire.  He  was,  in  a 
way  of  speaking,  guardian  of  that  vegetable  patch.  Judah 
had  not  formally  appointed  him  to  that  position,  but  he 
had  gone  away  and,  by  the  fact  of  so  doing,  had  left  it  in 
his  charge.  He  felt  responsible  for  its  safety. 

"Shoo !"  shouted  the  captain  and,  leaning  upon  his  cane, 
limped  toward  the  garden. 

"Shoo!"  he  roared  again.  The  hens  paid  about  as  much 
attention  to  the  roar  as  a  gang  of  ditch  diggers  might  pay 
to  the  buzz  of  a  mosquito.  Obviously  something  more 
drastic  than  shooing  was  necessary.  The  captain  stooped 
and  picked  up  a  stone.  He  threw  the  stone  and  hit  a  hen. 
She  rose  in  the  air  with  a  frightened  squawk,  ran  around 
in  a  circle,  and  then,  coming  to  anchor  in  a  patch  of  tiny 
beets,  resumed  excavating  operations. 

Kendrick  picked  up  another  stone,  a  bigger  one,  and  threw 
that.  He  missed  the  mark  this  time,  but  the  shot  was  not 
entirely  without  results ;  it  hit  one  of  Mr.  Gaboon's  cucum 
ber  frames  and  smashed  a  pane  to  atoms.  The  crash  of 
glass  had  the  effect  of  causing  some  of  the  fowl  to  stop 
digging  and  appear  nervous.  But  these  were  in  the  mi 
nority. 

The  captain  was,  by  this  time,  annoyed.  He  was  on  the 
verge  of  losing  his  temper.  Beyond  the  little  garden  and 
between  the  raspberry  and  currant  bushes  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  path  and  the  gate  through  which  he  had 


FAIR    HARBOR  45 


just  come  on  his  way  back  from  the  grounds  of  the  Fair 
Harbor.  That  gate  he  saw,  with  a  twinge  of  conscience, 
was  wide  open.  Obviously  he  must  have  neglected  to  latch 
it  on  passing  through,  it  had  swnng  open,  and  the  hens  had 
taken  advantage  of  the  sally  port  to  make  their  foray  upon 
Judah's  pet  vegetables.  They  were  Fair  Harbor  hens. 
Somehow  this  fact  did  not  tend  to  deepen  Sears  Kendrick's 
affection  for  them. 

"Shoo  !  Clear  out,  you  pesky  nuisances !"  he  shouted,  and 
waving  his  cane,  charged  laboriously  down  upon  the  fowl. 
They  retreated  before  him,  but  their  retreat  was  strategic. 
They  moved  from  beets  to  cabbages,  from  cabbages  to  young 
corn,  from  corn  to  onions.  And  they  scratched  and  pecked 
as  they  withdrew.  Nevertheless,  they  were  withdrawing 
and  in  the  direction  of  the  open  gate;  in  the  midst  of  his 
panting  and  pain  the  captain  found  a  slight  comfort  in  the 
fact  that  he  was  driving  the  creatures  toward  the  gate. 

At  last  they  were  almost  there — that  is,  the  main  body. 
Kendrick  noted,  with  sudden  uneasiness,  that  there  were 
stragglers.  A  gaily  decorated  old  rooster,  a  fowl  with  a 
dissipated  and  immoral  swagger  and  a  knowing,  devil-may- 
care  tilt  of  the  head,  was  sidling  off  to  the  left.  Two  or 
three  young  pullets  were  following  the  lead  of  this  ancient 
pirate,  evidently  fascinated  by  his  recklessness.  The  cap 
tain  turned  to  head  off  the  wanderers.  They  squawked  and 
ran  hither  and  thither.  He  succeeded  in  turning  them  back, 
but,  at  the  moment  of  his  success,  heard  triumphant  cluck- 
ings  at  his  rear.  The  rest  of  the  flock  had,  while  his  atten 
tion  was  diverted  by  the  rooster  and  his  followers,  galloped 
joyfully  back  to  the  garden  again.  Now,  as  Captain  Sears 
gazed,  the  rooster  and  his  satellites  flew  to  join  them.  All 
hands — or,  more  literally,  all  feet — resumed  excavating  with 
the  abandon  of  conscientious  workers  striving  to  make  up 
lost  time. 

And  now  Sears  Kendrick  did  lose  his  temper.  Probably 
at  another  time  he  might  have  laughed,  but  now  he  was 
tired,  in  pain,  and  in  no  mood  to  see  the  humorous  side  of 
the  situation.  He  expressed  his  opinion  of  the  hens  and 


46  FAIR    HARBOR 


the  rooster,  using  quarter  deck  idioms  and  withholding 
little.  If  the  objects  of  his  wrath  were  disturbed  they  did 
not  show  it.  If  they  were  shocked  they  hid  their  confusion 
in  the  newly  turned  earth  of  Judah  Gaboon's  squash  bed. 

Whether  they  were  shocked  or  not  Sears  did  not  stop  to 
consider.  He  intended  to  shock  them  to  the  fullest  extent 
of  the  word's  meaning.  At  his  feet  was  a  stick,  almost  a 
log,  part  of  the  limb  of  a  pear  tree.  He  picked  up  this 
missile  and  hurled  it  at  the  marauders.  It  missed  them 
but  it  struck  in  the  squash  bed  and  tore  at  least  six  of  the 
delicate  young  squashlings  from  their  moorings.  Kendrick 
plunged  after  it — the  hens  separating  as  he  advanced  and 
rejoining  at  his  rear — picked  up  the  log  and,  turning,  again 
hurled  it. 

"There!"  roared  the  captain,  "take  that,  damn  you!" 

One  of  the  hens  did  "take  it."  So  did  some  one  else. 
The  missile  struck  just  beneath  the  fowl  as  she  fled,  lifted 
her  and  a  peck  or  two  of  soil  as  well,  and  hurled  the  whole 
mass  almost  into  the  face  of  a  person  who,  unseen  until 
then,  had  advanced  along  the  path  from  the  gate  and  had 
arrived  at  that  spot  at  that  psychological  instant.  This  per 
son  uttered  a  little  scream,  the  hen  fled  with  insane  yells, 
the  log  and  its  accompanying  shower  fell  back  to  earth,  and 
Sears  Kendrick  and  the  young  woman — for  the  newcomer 
was  a  young  woman — stood  and  looked  at  each  other. 

She  was  bareheaded  and  her  hair  was  dark  and  abundant, 
and  she  was  wearing  a  gingham  dress  and  a  white  apron. 
So  much  he  noticed  at  this,  their  first  meeting.  Afterward 
he  became  aware  that  she  was  slender  and  that  her  age 
might  perhaps  be  twenty- four  or  twenty-five.  At  that  mo 
ment,  of  course,  he  did  not  notice  anything  except  that  her 
apron  and  dress — yes,  even  her  hair  and  face — were  plenti 
fully  besprinkled  with  earth  and  that  she  was  holding  a 
hand  to  her  eyes  as  if  they,  too,  might  have  received  a 
share  of  the  results  of  the  terrestrial  disturbance. 

"Oh!"  he  stammered.  "I'm  awfully  sorry!  I — I  hope  I 
didn't  hurt  you." 

If  she  heard  him  she  did  not  answer,  but,  removing  her 


FAIR    HARBOR  47 


hand,  opened  and  shut  her  eyes  rapidly.  The  captain's 
alarm  grew  as  he  watched  this  proceeding. 

"I — I  do  hope  I  didn't  hurt  you,"  he  repeated.  "It — it 
didn't  put  your  eyes  out,  did  it?" 

She  smiled,  although  rather  uncertainly.     "No,"  she  said. 

"You're  sure?" 

"Yes."  The  smile  became  broader.  "It's  not  quite  as 
bad  as  that,  I  guess.  I  seem  to  be  able  to  see  all  right." 

He  drew  a  relieved  breath.  "Well,  I'm  thankful  for  so 
much,  then,"  he  announced.  "But  it's  all  over  your  dress — 
and — and  in  your  hair — and  .  .  .  Oh,  I  am  sorry !" 

She  laughed  at  this  outburst.  "It  is  all  right,"  she  de 
clared.  "Of  course  it  was  an  accident,  and  I'm  not  hurt  a 
bit,  really." 

"I'm  glad  of  that.  Yes,  it  was  an  accident — your  part 
of  it,  I  mean.  I  didn't  see  you  at  all.  I  meant  the  part  the 
hen  got,  though." 

Her  laugh  was  over,  but  there  was  still  a  twinkle  in  her 
eye.  Kendrick  was,  by  this  time,  aware  that  her  eyes  were 
brown. 

"Yes,"  she  observed,  demurely,  "I — gathered  that  you 
did." 

"Yes,  I — "  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  his  language 
had  been  as  emphatic  as  his  actions.  "Good  lord!"  he  ex 
claimed.  "I  forgot.  I  beg  your  pardon  for  that,  too.  When 
I  lose  my  temper  I  am  liable  to — to  make  salt  water  re 
marks,  I'm  afraid.  And  those  hens  ...  Eh  ?  There  they 
are  again,  hard  at  it!  Will  you  excuse  me  while  I  kill 
three  or  four  of  'em?  You  see,  I'm  in  charge  of  that  gar 
den  and  .  .  .  Get  out!" 

This  last  was,  of  course,  another  roar  at  the  fowl,  who, 
under  the  leadership  of  the  rake-helly  rooster,  were  scratch 
ing  harder  than  ever  in  the  beds.  The  captain  reached  for 
another  missile,  but  his  visitor  stepped  forward. 

"Please  don't,"  she  begged.     "Please  don't  kill  them." 

"Eh?     Why  not?    They  ought  to  be  killed." 

"I  know  it,  but  I  don't  want  them  killed — yet,  at  any 
rate.  You  see,  they  are  my  hens." 


48  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Yours  ?"  The  captain  straightened  up  and  looked  at  her. 
"You  don't  mean  it?"  he  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  I  do.  They  are  mine,  or  my  mother's,  which  is  the 
same  thing.  I  am  dreadfully  sorry  they  got  in  here.  I'll 
have  them  out  in  just  a  minute.  Oh,  yes,  I  will,  really." 

Kendrick  regarded  her  doubtfully. 

"Well,"  he  said,  slowly,  "I  know  it  isn't  polite  to  contra 
dict  a  lady  but  if  you'll  tell  me  how  you  are  goin'  to  get  'em 
out  without  killin'  'em,  I'll  be  ever  so  much  obliged.  You 
can't  drive  'em,  I  know  that." 

"I  shan't  try.     Just  wait,  I'll  be  right  back." 

She  hurried  away,  down  the  path  and  through  the  open 
gate.  Captain  Sears  Kendrick  looked  after  her.  Behind 
and  about  him  the  Fair  Harbor  hens  clucked  and  scratched 
blissfully. 

In  very  little  more  than  the  promised  minute  the  young 
woman  returned.  She  carried  a  round  wooden  receptacle — 
what  Cape  Codders  used  to  call  a  "two  quart  measure" — 
and,  as  she  approached,  she  shook  it.  Something  within 
rattled.  The  hens,  some  of  them,  heard  the  rattle  and 
ceased  their  digging. 

"Come,  chick,  chick!  Come,  biddy,  biddy,  biddy!"  called 
the  young  woman,  rattling  the  measure.  More  of  the  fowl 
gave  up  their  labors,  and  looked  and  listened.  Some  even 
began  to  follow  her.  She  dipped  a  hand  into  the  measure, 
withdrew  it  filled  with  corn,  and  scattered  a  few  grains  in 
the  path. 

"Come,  biddy,  biddy,  biddy!"  she  said  again. 

And  the  biddies  came.  Forgetting  the  possibilities  of 
Judah  Cahoon's  garden,  they  rushed  headlong  upon  the 
golden  certainties  of  those  yellow  kernels.  The  young 
woman  retreated  along  the  path,  scattering  corn  as  she  went, 
and  after  her  scrambled  and  pecked  and  squawked  the  fowl. 
Even  the  sophisticated  rooster  yielded  to  temptation  and 
was  among  the  leaders  in  the  rush.  The  corn  bearer  and 
the  flock  passed  through  the  open  gate,  along  the  path  be 
neath  the  Fair  Harbor  apple  trees,  out  of  sight  around  the 


FAIR    HARBOR  49 


bend.  Sears  Kendrick  was  left  alone  upon  the  battle 
ground,  amid  the  dead  and  wounded  young  vegetables. 

But  he  was  was  not  left  alone  long.  A  few  minutes  later 
his  visitor  returned.  She  had  evidently  hurried,  for  there 
was  a  red  spot  on  each  of  her  cheeks  and  she  was  breathing 
quickly.  She  passed  through  the  gate  into  the  grounds  of 
the  General  Minot  place  and  closed  that  gate  behind  her. 

"There !"  she  said.  "Now  they  are  locked  up  in  the  hen 
yard.  How  in  the  world  they  ever  got  out  of  there  I  don't 
see.  I  suppose  some  one  left  the  gate  open.  I —  What 
were  you  going  to  say?" 

The  captain  had  been  about  to  confess  that  it  was  he 
who  left  the  gate  open,  but  he  changed  his  mind.  Appar 
ently  she  had  been  on  the  point  of  saying  something  more. 
The  confession  could  wait. 

"What  was  it?"  asked  the  young  woman. 

"Oh,  nothin',  nothin'." 

"Well,  I  suppose  it  doesn't  matter  much  how  they  got 
out,  as  long  as  they  did.  But  I  am  very  sorry  they  got  into 
Mr.  Gaboon's  garden.  I  hope  they  haven't  completely 
ruined  it." 

They  both  turned  to  survey  the  battlefield.  It  was — like 
all  battlefields  after  the  strife  is  ended — a  sad  spectacle. 

"Oh,  dear!"  exclaimed  the  visitor.  "I  am  afraid  they 
have.  What  will  Mr.  Gaboon  say?" 

The  captain  smiled  slightly. 

"I  hope  you  don't  expect  me  to  answer  that,"  he  observed. 

"Why?  ...  Oh,  I  see!  Well,  I  don't  know  that  I 
should  blame  him  much.  Have — have  they  left  anything?" 

"Oh,  yes !  Yes,  indeed.  There  are  a  good  many — er — 
sprouts  left.  And  they  dug  up  a  lot  of  weeds  besides. 
Judah  ought  to  be  thankful  for  the  weeds,  anyhow." 

"I  am  afraid  he  won't  be,  under  the  circumstances." 

"Maybe  not,  but  there  is  one  thing  that,  under  the  same 
circumstances,  he  ought  to  be  thankful  for.  That  is,  that 
you  came  when  you  did.  You  may  not  know  it,  but  I  had 
been  try  in'  to  get  those  hens  out  of  that  garden  for — for  a 


50  FAIR    HARBOR 


year,  I  guess.  It  seems  longer,  but  I  presume  likely  it 
wasn't  more  than  a  year." 

She  laughed  again.  "No,"  she  said,  "I  guess  it  wasn't 
more  than  that." 

"Probably  not.  If  it  had  been  any  longer,  judgin'  by  the 
way  they  worked,  they'd  have  dug  out  the  underpinnin7  and 
had  the  house  down  by  this  time.  How  did  you  happen  to 
come?  Did  you  hear  the — er — broadsides?" 

"Why,  no,  I —  But  that  reminds  me.  Have  you  seen  a 
tramp  around  here?" 

"A  tramp  ?     What  sort  of  a  tramp  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  Elvira — I  mean  Miss  Snowden — said  he 
was  a  tall,  dark  man  and  Aurora  thought  he  was  rather 
thick-set  and  sandy.  But  they  both  agree  that  he  was  a 
dreadful,  rough-looking  creature  who  carried  a  big  club  and 
had  a  queer  slouchy  walk.  And  he  came  in  this  direction, 
so  they  thought." 

"He  did,  eh?  Humph!  Odd  I  didn't  see  him.  I've  been 
here  all  the  time.  Where  was  he  when  they  saw  him  first  ?" 

"Over  on  our  property.  In  the  Fair  Harbor  grounds,  I 
mean.  He  came  out  of  the  bushes,  so  Elvira  and  Aurora 
say,  and  spoke  to  them.  Insulted  them,  Elvira  says." 

"Sho!    Well,  well!     I  wonder  where  he  went." 

"I  can't  think.  I  supposed  of  course  you  must  have  seen 
him.  It  was  only  a  little  while  ago,  not  more  than  an  hour. 
Have  you  been  here  all  that  time?" 

"Yes,  I've  been  here  for  the  last  two  hours.  What  part 
of  your  grounds  was  it?  Would  you  like  to  have  me  go 
over  there  and  look  around?" 

"No,  thank  you.  You  are  very  kind,  but  I  am  sure  it 
won't  be  necessary.  He  has  gone  by  now,  of  course." 

"I  should  be  glad  to  try."  Then,  noticing  her  glance  at 
his  limp,  he  added:  "Oh,  I  can  navigate  after  a  fashion, 
well  enough  for  a  short  cruise  like  that.  But  it  is  funny 
that,  if  there  was  a  tramp  there  such  a  little  while  ago,  I 
didn't  run  afoul  of  him.  Why,  I  was  over  there  myself." 

"You  were?" 

"Yes,  you  see,  I " 


FAIR    HARBOR  51 


He  stopped  short.  He  had  been  about  to  tell  of  his  short 
walk  and  how  he  had  inadvertently  trespassed  within  the 
Fair  Harbor  boundaries.  But  before  he  could  speak  the 
words  a  sudden  and  amazing  thought  flashed  upon  him. 

"Eh  ?"  he  cried.    "Why— why,  I  wonder " 

His  visitor  was  leaning  forward.  Judging  by  her  expres 
sion,  she,  too,  was  experiencing  a  similar  sensation  of 
startled  surmise. 

"Why "  repeated  the  captain. 

"Oh !"  exclaimed  the  young  woman. 

"You  don't  suppose " 

"It  couldn't  possibly  be  that " 

"Wait  a  minute,  please.  Just  a  minute."  Sears  held  up 
his  hand.  "Where  did  those  folks  of  yours  see  this  tramp? 
Were  they  in  a — in  a  kind  of  roundhouse — summer-house, 
you  might  call  it?" 

"Why,  yes.     They  were  in  the  Eyrie." 

"That's  it,  the  Eyrie.  And  is  one  of  the — er — ladies 
rather  tall  and  narrow  in  the  beam,  gray-haired,  and  speaks 
quick  and — school-marmy  ?" 

"Yes.     That  is  Miss  Elvira  Snowden." 

"Of  course — Elvira.  That's  what  the  other  one  called 
her.  And  she — the  other  one — is  short  and  broad  and — 
and  hard  of  hearin'?" 

"Yes.  Her  name  is  Aurora  Chase.  Is  it  possible  that 
you " 

"Just  a  second  more.  Has  this  short  one  got  a — a  queer 
sort  of  hair  rig?  Black  as  tar  and  with  kind  of — of  wrin 
kles  in  it?" 

She  smiled  at  this  description.  "Yes,"  she  said.  "Do 
you  mean  that  you  are "  , 

"The  tramp?  I  guess  likely  I  am.  I  was  over  on  your 
premises  just  a  little  while  ago  and  met  those  two  ladies." 

"But  you  can't  be.  They  said  he — the  tramp — was  a 
dreadful,  rough  man,  with  a  club  and — and— 

"Here's  the  club."  Captain  Kendrick  exhibited  his  cane. 
"And  these  lame  legs  of  mine  would  account  for  that 
slouchy  walk  they  told  you  about.  I  guess  there  isn't  much 


52  FAIR    HARBOR 


doubt  that  I  am  the  tramp.  But  I'm  sorry  if  they  thought 
I  insulted  'em.  I  surely  didn't  mean  to." 

He  described  the  meeting  by  the  Eyrie  and  repeated  the 
dialogue  as  he  remembered  it. 

"So  you  see/'  he  said,  in  conclusion,  "that's  all  there  is 
to  it.  I  suppose  that  hint  of  mine  about  bein'  tempted  to 
run  off  with  one  of  'em  is  the  nearest  to  an  insult  of  any 
of  it.  Perhaps  I  shouldn't  have  said  it,  but — but  it  popped 
into  my  head  and  I  couldn't  hold  it  back.  I  didn't  really 
mean  it,"  he  added  solemnly.  "I  wouldn't  have  run  off 
with  one  of  'em  for  the  world." 

This,  and  the  accompanying  look,  was  too  much.  His 
visitor  had  been  listening  and  trying  to  appear  grave,  al 
though  her  eyes  were  twinkling.  But  now  she  burst  out 
laughing. 

"Honest  I  wouldn't,"  reiterated  Captain  Sears.  "And 
I'm  sorry  for  that  insult." 

"Absurd!  You  needn't  be.  If  there  was  any  insult  it 
was  the  other  way  about.  The  idea  of  Elvira's  suggesting 
that  you  came  over  there  to  steal.  Well,  we've  settled  the 
tramp,  at  any  rate,  and  I  apologize  for  the  way  you  were 
treated,  Mr. " 

"Kendrick.    My  name  is  Kendrick." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Kendrick.  And  I  am  very  sorry  about  the 
garden,  too.  Please  tell  Mr.  Cahoon  so,  and  tell  him  I  think 
I  can  promise  that  the  gate  won't  be  left  open  again." 

"I'll  tell  him  when  he  comes  back.  He'll  be  here  pretty 
soon,  I  guess.  He  and  I  are  old  shipmates.  He  shipped 
cook  aboard  of  me  for  a  good  many  voyages." 

She  was  moving  toward  the  path  and  the  gate,  but  now 
she  paused  and  turned  to  look  at  him.  There  was  a  new 
expression  on  her  face,  an  expression  of  marked  interest. 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed.  "Are  you — are  you  Cap'n  Sears 
Kendrick?  The  one  who  was — hurt?" 

"Wrecked  in  the  train  smash  up?  Yes,  I'm  the  one. 
Look  like  a  total  wreck,  don't  I?" 

He  laughed  as  he  said  it,  but  there  was  a  taint  of  bitter- 


FAIR    HARBOR  53 


ness  in  the  laugh.  She  did  not  laugh.  Instead  she  took  a 
step  toward  him  and  involuntarily  put  out  her  hand. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry!"  she  said. 

"Eh?  Oh,  you  needn't  be.  I'm  gettin'  along  tip-top. 
Able  to  walk  and  ride  and — er — chase  hens.  That's  doin' 
pretty  well  for  one  day." 

"I  know.  But  they  were  my — our — hens  and  they  must 
have  tired  you  so.  Please  forgive  us.  I  won't,"  with  a 
smile,  "ask  you  to  forgive  them." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  that's  all  right,  Miss— er " 

"Berry.  I  am  Elizabeth  Berry.  My  mother  is  in  charge 
here  at  the  Harbor." 

"Harbor?  Oh,  yes,  over  yonder.  Berry?  Berry?  The 
only  Berry  I  remember  around  here  was  Cap'n  Isaac  Berry. 
Cap'n  Ike,  we  young  fellows  used  to  call  him.  I  went  to 
sea  with  him  once,  my  first  voyage  second  mate." 

"Did  you?  He  was  my  father.  But  there,  I  must  go. 
Good-by,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  I  hope  you  will  get  well  very 
fast  now." 

"Thanks.  Good-bye.  Oh,  by  the  way,  Miss  Berry,  what 
made  you  think  I  might  be  Sears  Kendrick?  There  are 
half  a  dozen  Kendricks  around  Bayport." 

"Yes,  but — excuse  me — there  is  only  one  Cap'n  Sears 
Kendrick.  You  are  one  of  Bayport's  celebrities,  Cap'n." 

"Humph!  Notorieties,  you  mean.  So  all  hands  have 
been  talkin'  about  me,  eh?  Humph!  Well,  I  guessed  as 
much." 

"Why,  of  course.  You  are  one  of  our  shining  lights — 
sea  lights,  I  mean.  You  must  expect  to  be  talked  about." 

"I  do — in  Bayport,  and  I'll  be  talked  about  more  in  a  day 
or  two,  I  guess." 

"Why?" 

"Eh?  Oh,  nothin',  nothin'.  I  was  thinkin'  out  loud, 
didn't  realize  I  spoke.  Good-by." 

"Good-by." 

The  gate  closed  behind  her.  Kendrick  sat  down  once 
more  upon  the  bench  beneath  the  locust  tree. 

When  Judah  returned  with  the  bucket  of  clams  he  found 


54  FAIR    HARBOR 


his  guest  and  prospective  boarder  just  where  he  had  left 
him. 

"Well,  by  Henry,  Cap'n  Sears !"  he  exclaimed.  "Still  at 
the  same  old  moorin's,  eh?  Been  anchored  right  there  ever 
since  I  sot  sail?" 

"Not  exactly,  Judah.     Pretty  nearly,  though." 

"Sho!  Kind  of  dull  music  for  you,  I'm  afraid.  Whoa, 
you  lop-sided  hay-barge!  Stand  still  till  I  give  you  orders 
to  move,  will  ye !  That's  what  I  warned  you,  Cap'n  Sears ; 
not  much  goin'  on  around  here.  You'll  be  pretty  lonesome, 
I  guess  likely." 

"Oh,  I  guess  I  can  stand  it,  Judah.  I  haven't  been  lone 
some  so  far." 

"Ain't,  eh?  That's  good.  Well,  I  got  my  clams;  now 
I'll  steer  this  horse  into  port  and  come  back  and  get  to  work 
on  that  chowder.  Oh,  say,  Cap'n  Sears ;  I  see  Sary  and 
told  her  you  was  cal'latin'  to  stay  here  for  dinner." 

"Did  you?     Much  obliged.     What  did  she  say?" 

"Say?  She  said  a  whole  lot.  Wanted  to  know  how  in 
time  you  got  up  here.  'You  didn't  let  him  walk  all  that 
great  long  ways,  Judah  Cahoon?'  she  says.  'I  ain't  alto 
gether  a  fool,  be  I  ?'  says  I." 

Mr.  Cahoon  paused  to  search  his  pockets  for  a  match. 

"What  answer  did  she  make  to  that?"  asked  the  captain. 
Judah  grinned. 

"Wa— 11,"  he  drawled,  "she  said,  'Perhaps  not— alto 
gether/  'Twan't  much,  but  it  was  enough  of  the  kind,  as 
the  feller  said  about  the  tobacco  in  the  coffee  pot.  Oh,  say, 
that  reminds  me,  Cap'n  Sears;  there  was  somebody  else 
talkin'  about  you.  I — whoa,  you  camel,  you!  Creepin', 

crawlin',  jumpin' Well,  go  ahead,  then!     I'll  tell  you 

the  rest  in  half  a  shake,  Cap'n.     Git  dap!" 

Horse,  cart  and  driver  jogged  and  jolted  into  the  barn. 
After  a  brief  interval  Mr.  Cahoon  reappeared,  carrying  the 
clam  bucket.  They  entered  the  kitchen  together.  Then  the 
captain  said: 

"Judah,  you  said  some  one  beside  Sarah  was  talkin'  about 
me.  Who  was  it?" 


FAIR    HARBOR  55 


"Hey?  Oh,  'twas  Emeline  Tidditt,  her  that's  keepin' 
house  for  Judge  Knowles.  She  says  the  old  judge  is  get- 
tin'  pretty  feeble.  Don't  cal'late  he'll  last  out  much  longer, 
Emeline  don't.  Says  it's  nothin'  but  just  grit  and  hang- 
on  that  keeps  him  alive.  He's  a  spunky  old  critter,  Judge 
Knowles  is,  'cordin'  to  folks's  tell.  Course  I  don't  know 
him  same  as  some,  but  I  cal'late  he's  a  good  deal  on  the 
general  build  and  lines  of  a  man  name  of  George  Dingo 
that  I  run  afoul  of  one  time  to  a  place  called  Semurny — 
over  acrost.  You  know  Semurny,  don't  ye,  Cap'n?  One 
of  them  Med'terranean  port  'tis." 

"Smyrna,  do  you  mean?" 

"Um-hm.  That's  it,  Semurny.  I  was  there  aboard  the 
William  Holcomb,  out  of  Philadelphy.  We  was  loadin'  with 
figs  and  truck  like  that.  You  remember  the  old  Holcomb, 
don't  you,  Cap'n  Sears?  Sartin  sure  you  do.  Horncastle 
and  Grant  of  Philadelphy  they  owned  her.  Old  Horncastle 
was  a  queer  man  as  ever  I  see.  Had  a  cork  leg.  Got  the 
real  one  shot  off  in  the  Mexican  war  or  run  over  by  a 
horse  car,  some  said  one  and  some  said  t'other.  Anyhow 
he  had  a  cork  one  spliced  on  in  place  of  it,  and — ho,  ho! 
'twas  as  funny  a  sight  as  ever  I  see — one  time  he  fell  off  the 
wharf  there  in  Philadelphy.  Yes,  sir,  fell  right  into  the 
dock,  he  did.  And  when  they  scrabbled  down  the  ladder 
to  haul  him  in  there  wasn't  nothin'  in  sight  but  that  cork 
leg,  stickin'  up  out  of  water.  The  rest  of  him  had  gone 
under,  but  that  cork  leg  hadn't — no,  sire-ee !  Haw,  haw ! 
Well  ...  er  ...  er  ....  What  did  I  start  to  talk  about, 
Cap'n  Sears?" 

"I  don't  know,  Judah.  It  was  a  good  while  ago.  You 
began  by  sayin'  that  you  met  Judge  Knowles's  house 
keeper." 

"Hey?  Why,  sure  and  sartin!"  Mr.  Cahoon  slapped  his 
leg.  "Sartin  sure,  Cap'n  Sears,  that  was  it.  And  I  said 
she  and  me  got  to  talkin'  about  you.  Well,  well,  well!  I 
started  right  there  and  I  fetched  up  way  over  in  Semurny, 
along  of  George  Dingo.  Well,  by  Henry!  Ain't  that 
queer,  now?" 


56  FAIR    HARBOR 


He  rubbed  his  legs  and  shook  his  head,  apparently  over 
come  by  the  queerness  of  it.  Kendrick,  judging  that  an 
other  Mediterranean  cruise  was  imminent,  made  a  remark 
calculated  to  keep  him  at  home. 

"What  did  this — what's-her-name — this  Tidditt  woman 
say  about  me?"  he  asked. 

"Hey?  Oh,  she  said  that  Judge  Knowles  wanted  to  see 
you.  Said  that  he  asked  about  you  'most  every  day,  wanted 
to  know  how  you  was  gittin'  along,  because  just  as  soon  as 
you  was  well  enough  to  cruise  on  your  own  hook  he  wanted 
you  to  come  in  and  see  him." 

"Judge  Knowles  wanted  me  to  come  in  and  see  him? 
Why,  that's  funny!  I  don't  know  the  judge  well.  Haven't 
seen  him  for  years,  and  then  only  two  or  three  times.  What 
on  earth  can  Judge  Knowles  have  to  say  to  me?  .  .  . 
Humph!  I  can't  think." 

He  tried  to  think,  nevertheless.  Judah  busied  himself 
with  the  sloppy  process  of  clam  opening.  A  little  later  he 
observed : 

"So  you  wan't  lonesome  all  alone  here  by  yourself  while 
I  was  gone,  Cap'n?  That's  good.  Glad  to  hear  it." 

"Thanks,   Judah.     I  wasn't  alone,   though." 

"You  wan't?  Sho!  Do  tell!  Have  company,  did  ye? 
Somebody  run  in?" 

"Yes.  And  they  wouldn't  run  out  again,  not  for  a  good 
while.  They  came  on  business." 

"Business?    What  kind  of  business?" 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  might  call  it  gardening.  They  were 
interested  in  raisin'  vegetables,  I  know  that." 

Judah  laid  down  the  clam  knife  and  regarded  his  former 
skipper.  "Raisin'  vegetables?"  he  repeated  slowly. 
"What — ?  Look  here  Cap'n  Sears,  who  was  they  ?  Where'd 
they  come  from?" 

"I  believe  they  came  from  next  door?" 

"Next  door?  From  the  Harbor?"  He  rose  to  his  feet, 
suspicion  dawning  upon  his  face  above  the  whiskers. 

"Yes,  Judah." 

"Cap'n  Sears,  answer  me  right  straight  out.     Have  those 


FAIR    HARBOR  57 


dummed  everlastin'  Fair  Harbor  hens  been  in  my  garden 
again?" 

"Yes,  Judah." 

"Have  they— have  they? "  Words  failed  him.  He 

strode  up  the  path  to  the  garden.  Then,  after  a  moment's 
comprehensive  gaze  upon  the  scene  of  ruin,  the  words  re 
turned. 


CHAPTER   IV 

SEARS  KENDRICK'S  prophecy  that  Bayport  would, 
within  the  next  day  or  two,  talk  about  him  even  more 
than  it  had  before  was  a  true  one.  As  soon  as  it 
became  known  that  he  had  left  the  Macomber  home  and 
was  boarding  and  lodging  with  Judah  Cahoon  in  the  rear 
portion  of  the  General  Minot  house  every  tongue  in  the  vil 
lage — tongues  of  animals  and  small  children  excepted — 
wagged  his  name.  At  the  sewing-circle,  at  the  Shakespeare 
Reading  Society — convening  that  week  at  Mrs.  Tabitha 
Crosby's — after  Friday  night  prayer-meeting  at  the  Ortho 
dox  meeting-house,  in  Eliphalet  Bassett's  store  at  mail  times, 
in  the  sitting-rooms  and  kitchens  and  around  breakfast,  din 
ner  and  supper  tables  from  West  Bayport  to  East  Bayport 
Neck  and  from  Poverty  Lane  to  Woodchuck's  Misery — the 
principal  topic  was  Captain  Kendrick's  surprising  move. 

"Why?"  that  was  the  question. 

Various  answers  were  offered,  many  reasons  suggested, 
but  none  satisfied  everybody. 

At  the  Shakespeare  Society  meeting,  just  before  the  read 
ing  aloud  of  "Cymbeline"  began — "Cymbeline"  carefully 
edited,  censored  and  kalsomined  by  the  selective  committee, 
Mrs.  Reverend  David  Dishup  and  Miss  Tryphosa  Taylor — 
the  feelings  of  the  genteel  section  of  the  community  were 
expressed  by  no  less  a  personage  than  Mrs.  Captain  Elkanah 
Wingate.  Mrs.  Wingate,  speaking  from  the  Mount  Sinai 
of  Bayport's  aristocracy,  made  proclamation  thus : 

"Why,  if  the  man  must  leave  his  sister's  and  go  some 
where  else  to  live,  why  in  the  world  does  he  choose  to  go 
there?  Aren't  there  good,  respectable,  genteel  boarding- 
houses  like — well,  like  yours,  Naomi,  for  instance?  / 
should  say  so." 

58 


FAIR    HARBOR  59 


Mrs.  Naomi  Newcomb,  whose  home  sheltered  a  few  "pay 
ing  guests,"  smiled  and  shook  her  head.  The  shake  indi 
cated  not  a  doubt  of  Mrs.  Wingate's  judgment,  but  com 
plete  loss  as  to  Sears  Kendrick's  reasons  for  behaving  as 
he  had.  Other  members  shook  their  heads  also.  Mary- 
Pashy  Foster,  who  had  spent  a  winter  in  France  when  her 
husband  was  ill  with  the  small-pox  at  Havre,  shrugged  her 
shoulders. 

"And,"  continued  Mrs.  Captain  Wingate,  "when  you  con 
sider  the  place  he  has  gone  to  and  the  person  he  has  gone 
with!  Good  heavens,  /  say!  Good  heavens!" 

More  words  and  exclamations  of  approval.  Several  others 
declared  that  they  said  so,  too. 

"Gone  to  live,"  went  on  Mrs.  Wingate,  "not  in  the  Gen 
eral  Minot  house  proper — there  might  be  some  explanation 
for  that,  perhaps — but  they  tell  me  that  this  Judah  Cahoon 
only  uses  the  back  part  of  the  house  and  that  Cap'n  Ken- 
drick  has  got  a  room  just  off  the  kitchen  or  thereabouts." 

"And  Judah  himself !"  broke  in  Miss  Taylor.  "He  is  as 
rough  and  common  as — as — I  don't  know  what.  How  a 
man  like  Cap'n  Kendrick  can  lower  himself — debase  him 
self  to  such  a  person's  level  I  do  not  see.  You  would  as 
soon  expect  a  needle  to  go  through  a  camel's  eye,  as  the  say 
ing  is." 

There  was  a  slight  interval  of  embarrassment  after  this 
outburst.  The  majority  of  those  present  realized  that  the 
speaker  had  gotten  her  proverb  twisted,  but,  she  being  Miss 
Tryphosa  Taylor,  no  one  felt  like  venturing  to  set  her  right. 
Mrs.  Captain  Godfrey  Peasley  relieved  the  situation;  she 
had  a  habit  of  relieving  situations — when  she  did  not  make 
them  tenser.  She  had  gotten  into  the  Shakespeare  Reading 
Society  purely  by  persistence  and  the  possession  of  ada 
mantine  self-confidence.  From  that  shot-proof  exterior 
snubs,  hints  and  reproofs  glanced  like  blown  peas  from  the 
hull  of  a  battleship.  "Heaven  knows,"  confided  Mrs.  Cap 
tain  Wingate  to  Miss  Taylor  and  the  Reverend  Mrs. 
Dishup,  "why  Amelia  Peasley  ever  wanted  to  join  the 
Society.  She  doesn't  know  whether  Shakespeare  is  a  man 


60  FAIR    HARBOR 


or  a  disease."  Which  may  or  not  have  been  true,  the  fact 
remaining  that  Mrs.  Peasley  had  wanted  to  join  the  Society 
and — joined. 

Now,  while  others  hesitated,  following-  Miss  Tryphosa's 
little  blunder,  she  spoke. 

"I  think,"  she  declared,  with  conviction,  "that  Sears  Ken- 
drick  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself.  I  think  such  actions 
are  degradatin' — yes,  indeed,  right  down  degradatin'." 

After  that,  further  comments  upon  the  captain's  conduct 
would  have  seemed  like  anti-climaxes.  Therefore  the  So 
ciety  proceeded  to  read  "Cymbeline."  Mrs.  Peasley  had 
something  to  say  about  "Cymbeline,"  also. 

Captain  Sears  himself  merely  grinned  when  told  of  the 
sensation  his  conduct  was  causing. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  "let  'em  talk.  If  they  aren't  talkin' 
about  me  they  will  be  about  somebody  else." 

Judah,  to  whom  this  remark  was  made,  snorted. 

"Humph !"  he  growled.  "They  be  talkin'  about  somebody 
else.  Don't  you  make  no  mistake  about  that,  Cap'n  Sears." 

"That  so,  Judah?    Who's  the  other  lucky  man?" 

"Me.  Jumpin',  creepin' Why,  some  of  them  women 
folks  seem  to  cal'late  I  lammed  you  over  the  head 
with  a  marlinspike  and  then  towed  you  up  here  by  main 
strength ;  seems  if  they  did,  by  Henry !  And  some  of  the 
men  ain't  a  whole  lot  better.  Makes  me  madder'n  a  sore 
nose.  I  was  down  to  the  store — down  to  'Liphalet's — and 
there  was  a  crew  of  ha'f  a  dozen  there  and  they  all  wanted 
to  know  how  you  was  gittin'  along.  , 

"  'Well,  he  ain't  dead  yit,'  says  I.  'He  was  lively  enough 
when  I  left  him.  I  ain't  come  to  buy  no  spade  to  bury  him 
with.' 

"You'd  think  that  would  satisfy  'em,  wouldn't  ye?  Well, 
it  didn't!  Cap'n  Noah  Baker  was  there  and  he  wanted  to 
know  this,  and  that  little  runt  of  a  Thad  Black  he  wanted 
to  know  that — and  kept  on  wantin'.  And  that  brother-in- 
law  of  yours,  Cap'n  Sears,  that  Joel  Macomber,  I  declare 
to  man  if  he  wan't  the  wust  of  all.  You'd  think  he  ought 
to  keep  quiet  about  your  doin's,  wouldn't  ye,  now?  But  he 


FAIR    HARBOR  61 


didn't.  'Don't  ask  me,  boys/  he  says.  7  don't  know  why 
Sears  quit  my  house  and  went  to  Judah's.  We  manage  to 
bear  up  without  him  somehow/  says  he,  winkin'  to  the 
gang,  'but  if  you  ask  me  his  reasons  for  goin'  I  can't  tell 
ye.  I  presume  likely  Judah  can,  though/  he  says.  'Well, 
I  can  see  one  reason  plain  enough/  says  I,  lookin'  right  at 
him." 

Kendrick  burst  out  laughing.  "Did  he  get  the  idea,  Ju 
dah?"  he  inquired. 

"Him?  Nary  a  bit.  Wanted  me  to  tell  him  what  the 
reason  was.  Limpin',  creepin'  prophets !  What  did  a 
woman  like  Sary  ever  marry  him  for,  anyway,  Cap'n?  Not 
that  it's  any  of  my  business,  you  understand." 

"I  understand.  Well,  it  wasn't  any  of  mine  either,  Ju 
dah." 

"No,  I  presume  likely  not.  But  that  George  Kent,  he's 
a  nice  young  feller,  ain't  he,  Cap'n?" 

"Seems  to  be,"  replied  Kendrick. 

"Um — hm.  Come  up  to  me,  after  the  gang  had  quit 
havin'  their  good  time,  and  shook  hands  nice  and  chummy 
and  wanted  to  know  how  you  was.  'Tell  the  cap'n  I'm 
goin'  to  come  in  and  see  him  some  day/  he  says,  'if  you 
and  he  want  callers.'  'Good  land,  yes/  says  I,  'course  we 
do.  Don't  stop  to  call,  come  right  along  in/  He's  a  nice 
boy,  that  young  Kent.  .  .  .  But — but  some  of  these  days 
I'm  goin'  to  hit  that  Thad  Black — hit  him  with  somethin' 
soft  like — like  an  anvil.  If  that  critter  fell  overboard  I 
wouldn't  heave  him  no  life-preserver.  No,  sir,  by  Henry, 
I'd  heave  him  the  sheet  anchor.  The  longer  he  hung  on  to 
that  the  better  'twould  suit  me." 

To  his  sister  only  did  Sears  give  his  reasons  for  leaving 
her  home.  With  her  he  was  perfectly  frank. 

"You  know  why  I'm  doin'  this,  Sarah,"  he  said.  "Now 
don't  you — honest?" 

Mrs.  Macomber  hesitated.  "Why,  Sears,"  she  faltered 
reluctantly,  "I — I  suppose  I  can  guess  why  you  think  you're 
doin'  it.  But  that  doesn't  make  it  right  for  you  to  do  it, 
really." 


62  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Oh,  yes,  it  does.  Be  sensible,  Sarah.  Here  are  you 
with  six  children  to  support  and  work  for,  not  to  mention 
one  boarder  and — a  husband.  The  house  is  crowded,  aloft 
and  alow.  There  isn't  a  bit  of  room  for  me." 

"Now,  Sears,  how  can  you  talk  so?  You've  had  room 
here,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes,  I've  had  it,  plenty  of  it.  But  how  much  room  have 
the  rest  of  you  had  ?" 

"Why — why,  we've  had  enough.  Nobody's  complained 
that  I  know  of." 

"Good  reason  why.  You  wouldn't  let  'em,  Sarah.  And 
of  course  you  never  would  complain  yourself.  But  that  is 
only  part  of  it.  The  real  thing  is  that  I  will  not  live  on 
you." 

"But  you  pay  board." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense !  How  much  do  I  pay  in  comparison 
with  what  it  costs  to  keep  me?" 

"You  pay  me  all  you  can  afford,  I'm  sure;  and  I  rather 
guess,  from  what  you  said  about  your  money  affairs  the 
other  day,  that  you  pay  me  more  than  you  ought  to  afford. 
And  I  don't  believe  you're  goin'  to  pay  that  Judah  Cahoon 
any  high  board  for  livin'  in  that  old  rats'  nest  of  his.  If 
you  are  I  shall  begin  to  believe  you've  gone  crazy." 

Her  brother  laughed.  "I  don't  mind  payin'  Judah  little 
or  nothin',  Sarah,"  he  declared.  "What  I  get  will  be  worth 
it,  probably,  and  besides  he's  a  strong,  healthy  man.  Then, 
too — well,  I  shouldn't  say  it  to  any  one  but  you,  but  there 
is  a  little  obligation  on  his  side  and  that  keeps  me  from 
feelin'  like  too  much  of  a  barnacle.  .  .  .  But  there,  what 
is  the  use  of  our  threshin'  this  all  over  again?  As  I  said 
in  the  beginnin',  Sarah,  you  know  why  I'm  doin'  it  per 
fectly  well." 

Mrs.  Macomber  sighed. 

"I  suppose  I  do,"  she  admitted.  "It's  because  you  are 
Sears  Kendrick  and  as  independent  and — and  proud  as — as 
your  own  self." 

So  the  move  was  made  and  Captain  Sears  Kendrick's  sea 
chest  and  its  owner  moved  into  Judah  Gaboon's  spare  state- 


FAIR   HARBOR  63 


room  at  the  General  Minot's  place.  And  Bayport  talked 
and  talked  more  and  more  and  then  less  and  less  until  at  the 
end  of  the  captain's  first  week  in  his  new  quarters  the  move 
had  become  old  news  and  people  ceased  to  be  interested  in 
it,  a  state  of  affairs  which  pleased  Mr.  Cahoon  immensely. 

"There,  by  Henry !"  he  declared,  on  his  return  from  what 
he  called  a  "cruise  down  the  road  along."  "I  honestly  do 
believe  you  and  me  has  got  so  we  can  bat  our  weather  eye 
without  all  hands  and  the  ship's  cat  tryin'  to  see  us  do  it. 
I  met  no  less  than  seven  folks  while  I  was  down  along 
just  now  and  only  two  of  'em  hailed  to  ask  how  you  liked 
bein'  aboard  here,  Cap'n  Sears.  Yes,  sir,  by  creepin',  only 
two  of  'em;  the  rest  never  said  a  word.  What  do  you 
think  of  that?  Some  considerable  change,  I  call  it." 

So  being  forgotten  by  the  majority  of  Bayporters — which 
was  what  he  desired  to  be — the  captain  settled  down  to  live, 
or  exist,  and  to  wait.  Just  what  he  was  waiting  for  he 
would  have  found  hard  to  tell.  Of  course  he  told  his  sister 
when  she  came  to  see  him,  which  was  at  least  once  every 
other  day,  that  he  was  waiting  for  his  legs  to  get  whole 
and  strong  again,  and  then  he  should,  of  course,  go  to  sea. 
He  told  Doctor  Sheldon  much  the  same  thing,  and  the  doc 
tor  said,  "Why,  of  course,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  We'll  have 
you  on  your  own  quarter  deck  again  one  of  these  days." 
He  said  it  with  heartiness  and  apparent  sincerity,  but  Sears 
was  skeptical.  After  the  doctor's  visits  he  was  likely  to  be 
blue  and  dejected  for  a  time,  and  Judah  noticed  this  fact 
but  attributed  it  to  quite  a  different  cause. 

"It's  high  time  that  doctor  swab  quit  comin'  here  to  see 
you,"  declared  Judah.  "Runnin'  in  here  and  lettin'  go  an 
chor  and  settin*  round  and  sayin',  'Well,  how  goes  it  to 
day?'  and  'Nice  spell  of  weather  we're  bavin','  and  the  like 
of  that,  and  then  goin'  home  and  chalkin'  up  another  dollar 
on  the  bill.  No  sense  to  it,  I  say.  No  wonder  you  look 
glum,  Cap'n  Sears.  Makes  me  glum,  and  'tain't  my  money 
that's  bein'  talked  out  of  me,  nuther.  Hear  what  he  said 
just  now?  'I  must  go/  he  says.  'And  what  did  you  say? 
Why,  you  said,  'Don't  hurry,  Doctor.  What  do  you  want 


64  FAIR    HARBOR 


to  go  for?'  All  I  could  do  to  keep  from  bustin'  out  in  a 
laugh.  /  know  what  you  was  sayin'  to  yourself,  you  see. 
'Stead  of  sayin',  'What  do  you  want  to  go  for?'  you  was 
thinkin',  'What  in  blue  blazes  do  you  want  to  come  for?' 
Haw,  haw !  That  was  it,  wan't  it,  Cap'n  ?" 

"Why,  no,  Judah.  I'm  always  glad  to  see  the  doctor." 
"Ye — es,  you  be!"  with  sarcasm.  "Glad  to  see  his  back. 
Well,  no  use,  Cap'n,  I've  got  to  think  up  some  no'tion  to 
keep  him  from  comin'  here.  How  would  it  do  to  run  up 
a  signal  'Small-pox  aboard/  or  somethin'  like  that?  Think 
that  would  keep  him  off  ?  ...  No,  he's  a  doctor,  ain't  he  ? 
All  he'd  read  out  of  that  set  of  flags  would  be,  'More  dol 
lars.  Come  on  in.'  Haw,  haw!  Well,  I  got  to  think  up 
some  way." 

Judah's  chatter  kept  his  lodger  from  being  too  lonely. 
Mr.  Cahoon  talked  about  everybody  and  everything,  and 
when  he  was  not  talking  he  was  singing.  He  sang  when  he 
turned  out  in  the  morning  to  get  breakfast,  he  sang  when 
he  turned  in  at  bedtime.  He  sang  while  working  in  the  gar 
den  repairing  the  damages  done  by  the  Fair  Harbor  hens. 
His  repertoire  was  extensive,  embracing  not  only  every  con 
ceivable  variety  of  chantey  and  sea  song,  but  also  an  assort 
ment  of  romantic  ballads,  running  from  "The  Blue  Juniata," 
in  which : 

"Wild  rowed  an  Indian  girl, 
Bright  Al-fa-ra-ta," 

to  the  ancient  ditty  of  twenty-odd  verses  describing  how 

"There  was  a  rich  merchant  in  London  did  dwell, 
He  had  for  his  daughter  a  very  fine  gel, 
Her  name  it  was  Dinah,  just  sixteen  years  old, 
With  a  very  large  fortune  in  silver  and  gold. 

"Singing  Too-ral-i-ooral-i-ooral-i-ay, 
Singing  Too-ral-i-ooral-i-ooral-i-ay," 


FAIR    HARBOR  65 


and  continuing  to  sing  "Too-ral-i-ooral-i-ooral-i-ay"  four 
times  after  each  of  the  twenty-odd  verses  to  the  tragical 
finish  of  Dinah  and  the  ballad. 

As  some  men  take  to  drink  upon  almost  any  or  no  ex 
cuse,  so  Judah  Cahoon  took  to  song.  And  if  the  effect  upon 
him  was  not  as  unsteadying  as  an  over  indulgence  in  alco 
hol,  that  upon  his  hearers  was  at  times  upsetting  and  dis 
astrous.  For  example,  upon  the  occasion  when  Captain 
Sears  again  encountered  his  acquaintances  of  the  Fair  Har 
bor  summer-house,  Mr.  Cahoon's  singing  completely  wrecked 
what  might  possibly  have  been  a  meeting  tending  to  raise 
the  captain  in  the  estimation  of  those  ladies. 

Sears  happened  to  be  taking  what  he  liked  to  call  his 
exercise.  Judah  called  it  "pacin'  decks."  He  was  hobbling 
back  and  forth  along  the  path  leading  to  the  gate  opening 
upon  the  Fair  Harbor  grounds.  His  landlord  was  at  work 
in  the  garden.  The  captain  had  limped  as  far  as  the  gate 
and  was  about  to  turn  and  limp  back  again  when,  behold, 
along  the  path  beyond  that  gate  appeared  two  feminine 
figures  strolling  with  what  might  be  called  careful  careless 
ness,  looking  up,  down  and  on  every  side  except  that  upon 
which  stood  Captain  Sears  Kendrick.  And  the  captain 
recognized  the  pair,  the  one  tall,  slim,  slender — unusually 
slim  and  remarkably  slender — the  other  short  and  plump — 
very  decidedly  plump — as  the  ladies  with  whom  he  had 
held  brief  but  spirited  discourse  the  fortnight  before,  the 
ladies  who  had  peered  forth  at  him  from  the  vine-draped 
window  of  the  Eyrie — in  short,  for  Miss  Elvira  Snowden 
and  Mrs.  Aurora  Chase. 

The  pair  came  strolling  along  the  path.  They  were  almost 
at  the  gate  when  Miss  Snowden  looked  up — she  would  have 
said  she  happened  to  look  up — and  saw  the  captain  standing 
there.  She  was  embarrassed  and  surprised — any  one  might 
have  noticed  the  surprise  and  embarrassment.  She  started, 
gasped  and  uttered  a  little  exclamation.  Mrs.  Chase,  taking 
her  affliction  into  account,  could  not  possibly  have  heard  the 
exclamation,  but  no  doubt  there  was  a  telepathic  quality  in 


66  FAIR    HARBOR 


it,  for  she,  too,  started,  looked  up  and  was  surprised  and 
embarrassed. 

"Why — why,  oh,  dear!"  faltered  Miss  Snowden. 

"Why!     My  soul  and  body!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Chase. 

Captain  Sears  raised  his  hat.  "Good  mornin',"  he  said 
politely. 

The  ladies  looked  at  each  other.  Then  Miss  Elvira,  evi 
dently  the  born  leader,  inclined  her  head  ever  so  little  and 
said,  "Good  morning."  Mrs.  Aurora  looked  up  at  her  in 
order  to  see  what  she  said. 

Captain  Sears  tried  again. 

"It's  a  nice  day  for  a  walk,"  he  observed. 

Miss  Elvira  nodded  and  agreed,  distantly — yet  not  too 
distant. 

"I  understand,"  said  the  captain,  "that  I  gave  you  ladies 
a  little  bit  of  a  scare  the  other  day.  Understand  you 
thought  I  was  a  tramp.  I'm  real  sorry.  Of  course  I  know 
I  hadn't  any  business  over  on  your  premises,  but,  as  a  mat 
ter  of  fact,  I  didn't  exactly  realize  where  I  was.  It  was 
the  first  cruise  I'd  made  in  these  latitudes,  as  you  might 
say,  and  I  didn't  think  about  keepin'  on  my  own  side  of  the 
channel  buoys.  I  beg  your  pardon.  I'll  hope  you'll  excuse 
me." 

Miss  Snowden  nodded  elegantly  and  murmured  that  she 
understood. 

"You  are  our  new  neighbor,  I  believe,"  she  said. 

"Why,  yes'm,  I  suppose  I  am." 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes." 

"I  hope,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  that  you  won't  think  there  was 
any — ah — anything  personal  in  our  mistaking  you  for  a  tramp 
the  other  day.  Of  course  there  wasn't.  Oh,  dear,  no!" 

The  captain  hesitated.  He  was  wondering  just  what  an 
swer  he  was  supposed  to  make  to  this  speech.  Did  the  lady 
wish  him  to  infer  that  it  was  the  Fair  Harbor  custom  to 
consider  all  male  strangers  tramps  until  they  were  proven 
innocent?  Or — but  Mrs.  Chase  saved  him  the  trouble  of 
reply. 


FAIR    HARBOR  67 


"Elviry,"  she  demanded,  "what  are  you  and  him  whis- 
perin'  about?  Why  don't  you  talk  so's  a  body  can  hear 
you?  He's  Cap'n  Kendrick,  ain't  he?  Have  you  told  him 
who  we  be,  same  as  you  said  you  was  goin'  to?" 

Miss  Snowden,  after  looking  at  the  rotund  Aurora  as  if 
she  would  like  to  bite  her,  smiled  instead  and  began  a  rather 
tangled  explanation  to  the  effect  that  she  and  Mrs.  Chase 
had  felt  that  perhaps  they  had  been  a — ah — they  might 
have  seemed  "kind  of  hasty — you  know,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  in 
what — in  speaking  as  we  did  that  time,  and  so — and  so  I 
told  her  if  we  ever  did  meet  you — if  we  ever  should,  you 

know But  we  haven't  really  met  yet,  have  we?  Shall 

we  introduce  ourselves  ?  I  don't  see  why  not ;  neighbors, 
you  know.  Cap'n  Kendrick,  this  is  Mrs.  Aurora  Chase, 
widow  of  the  late  Cap'n  Ichabod  Chase.  No  doubt,  you 
knew  Cap'n  Chase  in  the  old  days,  Cap'n  Kendrick." 

And  then  Aurora,  who  had  been  listening  with  all  her 
ears,  and  hearing  with  perhaps  a  third  of  them,  broke  in  to 
say  that  her  husband  was  not  a  captain.  "He  was  second 
mate  when  he  died,"  she  explained.  "Aboard  the  bark 
Charles  Francis  he  was,  bound  for  New  Bedford  from  the 
West  Indies  with  a  load  of  guano." 

Miss  Snowden,  favoring  the  veracious  Aurora  with  an 
other  look,  hastily  introduced  herself  and  began  to  speak 
of  the  beauties  of  the  day,  of  the  surroundings,  and  par 
ticularly  of  the  select  and  refined  joys  of  life  at  the  Fair 
Harbor. 

"We  have  our  little  circle  there,"  she  said.  "We  live 
our  lives,  quiet,  retired,  away  from  the  world " 

Mrs.  Chase  broke  in  once  more  to  ask  what  she  was 
talking  about.  When  the  substance  of  the  Snowden  rhap 
sody  was  given  her,  she  nodded — as  well  as  her  several  chins 
would  permit  her  to  nod — and  announced  that  she  agreed. 

"We  like  livin'  at  the  home  first-rate,"  she  declared.  El 
vira  flushed. 

"It  is  not  a  home,"  she  said,  sharply.  "It  is  a  select  re 
treat,  that  is  all.  It  is  not  a  home  in  any  sense  of  the  word. 
Every  one  knows  that  it  is  not.  Aurora,  I  wish  to  goodness 


68  FAIR    HARBOR 


you But  of  course  Cap'n  Kendrick  doesn't  want  to 

hear  about  us  all  the  time.  He  is  interested  in  his  own 
new  quarters.  Do  you  like  it  here,  Cap'n  Kendrick?  I — 
ah — understand  you  are,  so  to  speak,  a  guest  of  Mr.  Ca- 
hoon's.  He  is — ah — a  relation  of  yours?" 

Sears  explained  the  acquaintanceship  between  Judah  and 
himself.  Miss  Snowden  nodded  comprehension. 

"That  explains  it,"  she  said.  "I  thought  he  could  hardly 
be  a  relation  of  yours,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  He  is — he  is  a 
little  bit  queer,  isn't  he?  I  mean  eccentric,  you  know.  Of 
course  I've  never  met  him,  and  I'm  sure  he's  real  good- 
hearted,  but " 

She  paused,  leaving  the  rest  of  the  sentence  to  be  in 
ferred.  Captain  Sear's  answer  was  prompt  and  crisp. 

"Judah  Cahoon  is  one  of  the  best  fellows  that  ever  lived," 
he  said. 

"Yes,  I  know.  I  am  sure  he  is.  I  didn't  mean  that.  I 
meant  is  he — is  he " 

And  then  Judah  himself,  at  work  in  the  garden  behind 
the  screen  of  bushes,  too  busy  to  hear  or  even  be  aware  of 
the  conversation  at  the  gate,  chose  this  untoward  moment 
to  burst  into  song,  to  sing  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  and  the 
top  of  Judah's  voice  was  an  elevation  from  which  sound 
traveled  far.  He  sang: 

"Oh,  Sally  Brown  was  a  bright  mulatter, 

Way,  oh,  roll  and  go ! 
She  drinks  rum  and  chews  terbacker, 
Spend  my  money  on  Sally  Brown. 
"Whee— ;y*>r 

Miss  Elvira's  thin  figure  stiffened  to  an  exclamation  point 
of  disapproval.  Captain  Kendrick  turned  uneasily  in  the 
direction  of  the  singer.  Mrs.  Chase,  aware  that  something 
was  going  on  and  not  wishing  to  miss  it,  cupped  her  ear 
with  her  hand.  And  Judah  began  the  second  verse. 


FAIR    HARBOR  69 


"Oh,  Sally  Brown,  I'll  surely  miss  you, 

Way,  oh,  roll  and  go! 
How  I'd  love  to  hug  and  kiss  you ! 
Spend  my  money  on  Sally  Brown. 
"Whee— yip  I" 

"Judah!"  roared  the  captain,  who  was  suffering  acute 
apprehension.  "Judah !" 

"Oh,  Sally  Brown " 

"Judah  I" 

"Eh?     What  is  it,  Cap'n  Sears?" 

"Shut  up." 

"Eh!     Shut  up  what?    What's  open?" 

"Stop  that  noise." 

"What  noise?" 

"That  noise  of  yours.     That  singin'." 

"Eh?  Oh,  all  right,  sir.  Aye,  aye,  Cap'n,  just  as  you 
say." 

Captain  Sears,  relieved,  turned  again  to  his  visitors.  But 
the  visitors  were  rapidly  retreating  along  the  path,  the  lines 
of  Miss  Elvira's  back  indicating  disgust  and  outraged  gen 
tility.  Mrs.  Chase,  however,  looked  back.  Obviously  she 
still  did  not  know  what  it  was  all  about. 

Sears,  although  he  chuckled  a  good  deal  over  the  affair, 
was  a  trifle  annoyed,  nevertheless.  It  was  a  good  joke,  of 
course,  and  he  certainly  cared  little  for  the  approval  or  dis 
approval  of  Miss  Elvira  Snowden.  But  when  he  considered 
what  the  prim  spinster's  version  of  the  happening  was  likely 
to  be  and  the  reputation  her  story  was  sure  to  confer,  inside 
the  Fair  Harbor  fences  at  least,  upon  him  and  his  household 
companion,  he  was  tempted  to  wish  that  that  companion's 
musical  talent  had  been  hidden  under  a  napkin,  of,  better 
still,  a  feather  bed.  He — Kendrick — was  to  live,  for  a  time 
indefinite,  next  door  to  the  Fair  Harborites,  and  it  is  always 
pleasant  to  be  on  good  terms  with  one's  neighbors.  True, 
those  neighbors  might  be,  the  majority  of  them,  what  Mr. 
Cahoon  called  them — which  was  whatever  term  of  appro- 
brium  he  happened  to  think  of  at  the  moment,  "pack  of  old 


70  FAIR    HARBOR 


hens"  being  the  mildest — but  the  captain  knew  that  one,  at 
least,  was  not  an  "old  hen."  "That  Berry  girl,"  which  was 
his  way  of  thinking  of  her,  was  attractive  and  kind  and  a 
lady.  They  had  met  but  once,  it  is  true,  but  she  had  made 
a  most  favorable  impression  upon  him.  He  had  caught 
glimpses  of  her  on  two  occasions,  in  the  Fair  Harbor 
grounds,  and  once  she  had  waved  a  greeting.  She  was  a 
nice  girl,  he  was  sure  of  it.  If  she  thought  at  all  of  the 
cripple  next  door  he  would  like  her  to  think  of  him  in  a 
kindly  way,  as  a  decent  sort  of  hulk,  so  to  speak.  It  was 
provoking  to  feel  that  she  would  next  hear  of  him  as  a 
dissipated  ruffian,  friend  and  defender  of  another  ruffian 
who  howled  ribald  songs  in  the  presence — or  at  least  in  the 
hearing — of  ladies. 

He  questioned  Judah  concerning  the  Fair  Harbor,  its 
founder  and  the  dwellers  within  its  gates.  Judah  told  him 
what  he  knew  of  the  story,  which  was  very  little  more  than 
the  captain  already  knew,  his  knowledge  gained  from  his 
sister's  letters.  Captain  Sylvanus  Seymour  had  had  but  one 
child,  his  daughter  Lobelia.  At  his  death  she,  of  course, 
inherited  all  his  property.  According  to  Bayport  gossip,  as 
reported  by  Mr.  Cahoon,  the  old  man  had  died  worth  any 
where  from  one  half  a  million  to  three  or  five  millions. 
"Richer'n  dock  mud,  I  cal'late  he  was,"  declared  Judah. 
"Made  a  lot  of  money  out  of  his  Boston  shippin'  business 
and  a  lot  more  out  of  stocks  and  city  real  estate  and  one 
thing  or  Another."  For  years  after  Captain  Sylvanus  died 
Lobelia  lived  alone  in  the  big  house.  Then  she  had  mar 
ried.  Judah  could  tell  little  about  the  man  she  married. 

"He  was  a  music  teacher  that  come  to  town  here  one 
winter,  that's  about  all  I  can  swear  to,"  said  Judah.  "Down 
here  for  his  health,  so  he  said,  and  taught  singin'  school 
while  he  was  gittin'  healthy.  His  last  name  was  Phillips, 
which  is  all  right,  but  he  had  the  craziest  fust  name  ever 
/  heard.  Egbert  'twas.  Hoppin',  creepin'  Henry !  Did  you 
ever  hear  such  a  name?  Egbert!  Jumpin'  prophets!  Boys 
round  town,  they  tell  me,  used  to  call  him  'Eg'  behind  his 
back.  Some  of  'em,  them  that  didn't  like  him,  called  him 


FAIR    HARBOR  71 


'Soft  biled.'  Haw,  haw !  See  what  they  meant,  don't  you, 
Cap'n  Sears?  Egbert,  you  know,  that's  'Eg'  for  short,  and 
then  'Soft  biled'  meanin*  a  soft  biled  egg  ....  Hey? 
Yes,  I  cal'lated  you'd  see  it,  you're  pretty  sharp  at  a  joke, 
Cap'n,  but  there  has  been  them  I've  told  that  to  that 
never  .  .  .  Hey?  Aye,  aye,  sir,  I  was  just  goin'  to  tell 
the  rest  of  it." 

According  to  Judah's  report,  which  was  a  second  or  third 
hand  report  of  course,  Egbert  Phillips  had  not  been  too 
popular  among  the  males  in  Bayport.  But  with  the  females 
— ah,  there  it  was  different. 

"He  was  one  of  them  kind,  they  tell  me,"  said  Judah. 
"One  of  them  smooth,  slick,  buttery  kind  of  fellers  that 
draws  women-folks  same  as  molasses  draws  flies.  Hailed 
from  Philadelphy  he  did.  I  used  to  know  a  good  many 
Philadelphy  folks  myself  once.  Why,  one  time " 

The  captain  broke  in  to  head  off  the  Philadelphia  reminis 
cence.  Brought  back  to  Bayport  and  Egbert  and  Lobelia, 
Judah  went  on  to  tell  what  more  he  knew  of  the  Fair  Har 
bor  beginnings.  Sears  gathered  that  after  the  marriage 
Egbert  who,  it  seemed,  was  not  in  love  with  the  Cape  as  a 
place  of  residence,  would  have  liked  his  wife  to  sell  the  old 
house  and  move  away.  But  there  was  a  clause  in  the  will  of 
Captain  Sylvanus  which  prevented  this.  Under  that  will  the 
property  could  not  be  sold  while  his  daughter  lived.  It  was 
then  that  Lobelia  was  seized  with  her  great  idea.  She,  a 
mariner's  daughter,  had — until  the  Providential  appearance 
of  the  peerless  Egbert — faced  a  lonely  old  age.  But  she 
had  at  least  a  comfortable  home.  There  were  so  many 
women — sea-captains'  widows  and  sisters — who  faced  their 
lonely  future  without  a  home.  Why  not  turn  the  Seymour 
property  into  a  home  for  them — a  limited  number  of  them? 

"So  she  done  it,"  said  Judah.  "And  that's  how  the  Fair 
Harbor  got  off  the  ways." 

"But  you  called  it  a  home,"  objected  Captain  Sears.  "The 
other  day  that  Snowden  woman,  the  thin  one,  gave  the 
other,  the  stout  one — what's  her  name? — Northern  lights — 


72  FAIR    HARBOR 


Aurora,  that's  it — she  gave  Aurora  fits  for  speakin'  of  the 
place  as  a  home.  She  declared  it  wasn't  a  home." 

Mr.  Cahoon  chuckled.  "Did,  eh?"  he  observed.  "Well, 
you  might  call  a  mackerel  gull  a  canary  bird,  I  presume 
likely,  but  'twouldn't  make  the  thing  sing  no  better. 
That  Elviry  critter  likes  to  make  believe  she's  the  Queen 
of  Sheby.  She  wouldn't  live  in  no  home — no  sir-ee ! 
'Cordin'  to  her  the  Fair  Harbor  ain't  a  home  because  they 
only  take  six  or  eight  passengers,  or  visitors,  or  patients,  or 
jailbirds — whatever  you  might  to  call  'em,  and  it  costs  four 
hundred  dollars  to  pay  your  way  in  and  a  hundred  a  year 
to  keep  you  there.  So  'tain't  a  home,  you  see.  It's  a — a 
genteel  henhouse,  I'd  say.  That  Elviry  Snowden  she " 

Then  the  captain  asked  the  question  to  which  he  had  been 
leading  since  the  beginning. 

"That  Berry  girl's  mother  runs  the  place,  doesn't  she?" 
he  asked. 

Judah  snorted.  "Yeah,"  he  drawled,  "she  runs  it  about 
the  way  the  skipper's  poll  parrot  runs  the  vessel.  The  poll 
parrot  talks  a  barrel  a  minute  and  the  skipper  goes  right 
along  navigatin'.  That's  about  the  way  'tis  over  yonder," 
with  a  jerk  of  the  head  in  the  general  direction  of  the  Fair 
Harbor. 

His  lodger  was  a  trifle  surprised. 

'"Why,  I  understood  Mrs.  Berry — Cap'n  Isaac  Berry's 
widow — was  manager  there,"  he  said. 

"Um-hm.  So  she  is,  the  poll  parrot  manager.  But  it's 
that  girl  of  hers,  that  'Lizabeth  Berry,  that  really  handles 
the  ropes.  There's  a  capable  little  craft,  if  you  want  to 
know,"  declared  Judah,  with  emphasis. 

He  whittled  a  pipe  full  of  tobacco  from  the  mutilated 
remnant  of  a  plug,  and  continued  to  expatiate  on  the  capa 
bilities  of  Miss  Berry.  According  to  him  whatever  was  as 
it  should  be  within  the  Fair  Harbor  boundaries  was  due  to 
the  young  woman's  efforts,  not  to  those  of  her  mother. 

"It's  kind  of  queer,  ain't  it,  Cap'n  Sears,"  he  observed, 
"how  things  average  up  sometimes. 


FAIR    HARBOR  73 


works  out  the  course  up  aloft  sort  of  fixed  'em  that  way." 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  the  Berrys  ?" 

"Cause  it  worked  that  way  with  them.  You  knew  Cap'n 
Ike  Berry,  Cap'n  Sears.  Sharp,  shrewd,  able  and  all  that, 
but  rough  and  hard  as  the  broadside  of  a  white-oak  plank. 
Well,  he  married  a  woman  from  down  in  the  Carolinas 
somewhere.  Her  folks  was  well-off  and  she  was  brought 
up  in  cotton  wool,  as  you  might  say.  They  wouldn't  have 
nothin'  to  do  with  her  after  she  married  Cap'n  Ike.  He  fell 
in  love  with  her  and  carried  her  off  by  main  strength,  as  you 
might  say.  She'd  been  treated  like  a  plaything  afore  he  got 
her  and  he  treated  her  that  way  till  he  died.  She  is  soft- 
spoken,  and  kind  of  good-lookin',  and  polite  and  all  that — 
but  about  as  much  practical  use  for  bossin'  a  place  like  the 
Fair  Harbor  as  a — well  as  a  paper  umbrella  would  be  in 
a  no'theaster.  But  'Lizabeth  now,  she's  different.  She's 
got  her  mother's  good  looks  and  nice  manners  and — and 
kind  of  genteelness,  you  understand,  and  with  'em  she's  got 
her  dad's  sense  and  capableness.  She's  all  right,  that  girl. 
Don't  you  think  so,  Cap'n  Sears?" 

The  captain  nodded.. 

"I  never  met  her  but  that  once,  Judah,"  he  replied.  "She 
was  all  right  then,  surely." 

"I  bet  you !  She's  all  right  most  of  the  time,  I  guess.  .  .  . 
That  young  George  Kent,  he  thinks  so,  they  tell  me." 

"Oh  .    .    .   does  he?" 

"Um-hm!  He's  cruisin'  up  to  the  Fair  Harbor  'bout 
every  once  or  twice  a  week,  'cordin'  to  tell.  If  it  ain't  to 
see  'Lizabeth  I  don't  know  what  'tis.  It  might  be  Queen 
Elviry  he's  after,  but  I  have  my  doubts  ....  Oh,  say, 
Cap'n,  speakin'  of  the  Harbor  reminds  me  of  Judge 
Knowles.  You  ain't  been  in  to  see  him  yet,  same  as  he 
wanted  you  to." 

"That's  so,  Judah,  I  haven't.  I  must  pretty  soon,  I  sup 
pose.  I  can't  think  what  the  old  judge  wants  to  see  me  for. 
But  why  did  talkin'  of  the  Fair  Harbor  and  the  rest  of  it 
make  you  think  of  Judge  Knowles?" 

"Hey?     Oh,  'cause  the  judge  is  kind  of  commodore  of 


74  FAIR    HARBOR 


the  fleet  there,  looks  after  the  money  matters  for  'em,  I 
understand.  He's  Lobelia's  lawyer,  same  as  he  was  old 
Cap'n  Sylvanus's  afore  he  died  ....  I  declare  I  can't 
guess  what  he  wants  to  see  you  for,  Cap'n  Sears.  Do  you 
s'pose " 

Judah  proceeded  to  suppose  several  things,  each  sup 
position  more  far-fetched  and  improbable  than  its  predeces 
sor.  Sears  paid  little  attention  to  them.  He  again  ex 
pressed  his  intention  of  calling  upon  the  judge  before  long 
and  changed  the  subject. 

The  next  day  it  rained  and  he  did  not  go  and  the  follow 
ing  day  he  did  not  feel  like  going.  On  the  day  after  that, 
however,  further  procrastination  was  rendered  impossible. 
Mrs.  Tidditt,  the  judge's  housekeeper,  visited  the  General 
Minot  place  with  another  message  from  her  employer. 
Emmeline  was  gray-haired,  brisk  and,  as  Judah  expressed 
it,  "straight  up  and  down,"  both  in  figure  and  manner  of 
speaking. 

"Good  mornin',  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  said.  "Judge 
Knowles  wants  to  know  if  'twill  be  convenient  for  you  to 
come  over  and  see  him  this  afternoon?  Says  if  'tis  he'll 
send  Mike  and  the  hoss-'n'-buggy  around  for  you  at  two 
o'clock." 

The  captain's  guilty  conscience  made  him  a  trifle  em 
barrassed.  "Why — why,  yes,  certainly,"  he  stammered. 

"I Well,  I'm  ashamed  of  myself  for  not  goin'  over 

there  sooner.  Beg  Judge  Knowles's  pardon  for  me,  will 
you,  and  tell  him  I'll  be  on  hand  at  two  sharp.  And  tell  him 
not  to  bother  to  send  the  horse  and  team.  I'll  get  there  all 
right." 

Mrs.  Tidditt  sniffed.  "I'll  tell  him  the  first  part,"  she 
said.  "And  Mike'll  have  the  hoss-'n'-buggy  here  at  ten 
minutes  of.  Judah  Cahoon,  why  in  the  land  of  Canaan 
don't  you  scrub  up  that  back  piazza  floor  once  in  a  while? 
It's  dirty  as  a  fish  shanty." 

Judah's  back  fin  rose.  "Say,  who's  keepin'  house  aboard 
here,  anyway?"  he  demanded.  Mrs.  Tidditt  sniffed  again. 
"Nobody,  by  the  looks,"  she  said,  and  departed  in  triumph. 


FAIR    HARBOR  75 


At  two  the  Knowles  horse  and  buggy  drove  into  the  yard. 
It  was  piloted  by  Mike  Callahan,  an  ancient,  much  be- 
whiskered  Irishman  who  had  been  employed  by  the  judge 
almost  as  long  as  had  Mrs.  Tidditt.  He  and  Judah  assisted 
Sears  into  the  vehicle  and  the  captain  started  upon  his  cruise, 
which  was  a  very  short  one,  the  Knowles  establishment 
being  but  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  Minot  place.  On 
the  way  he  inquired  concerning  the  judge's  health.  Mike 
shook  his  head. 

"Bad,"  he  grunted.    "It's  close  to,  the  ould  judge  is." 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry." 

"Sure  ye  are.  So  are  we  all.  He  is  a  fine  man,  none 
better — barrin'  he's  a  grand  ould  curmudgeon.  Here  ye 
are,  Cap'n.  Git  up  till  I  lift  ye  down." 

Judge  Knowles's  house — Sears  Kendrick  had  never  been 
in  it  before — was  a  big  square  mansion  built  in  the  '50*5. 
There  was  the  usual  front  door  leading  to  a  dark  front  hall 
from  which,  to  right  and  left  respectively,  opened  parlor 
and  sitting  rooms.  Emmeline  ushered  the  visitor  into  the 
latter  apartment.  It  was  high  studded,  furnished  in  black 
walnut  and  haircloth,  a  pair  of  tall  walnut  cases  filled  with 
books  against  one  wall,  on  the  opposite  wall  a  libellous  oil 
portrait  of  the  judge's  wife,  who  died  twenty  years  before, 
and  a  pair  of  steel  engravings  depicting  "Sperm  Whale 
Fishing  in  the  Arctic";  No.  I,  portraying  "The  Chase,"  No. 
2,  "the  Capture."  Beneath  these  stood  a  marble-topped 
table  upon  which  were  neatly  piled  four  gigantic  volumes, 
bound  copies  of  Harper's  Weekly,  1861  to  '65,  the  Civil  War 
period. 

At  the  end  of  the  room,  where  two  French  windows 
opened — that  is,  could  have  opened,  they  never  were — upon 
the  narrow,  iron-railed  veranda,  sat  Judge  Marcus  Aurelious 
Knowles,  in  an  old-fashioned  walnut  armchair,  his  feet 
upon  a  walnut  and  haircloth  footstool — Bayport  folk  in 
those  days  called  such  stools  "crickets" — a  knitted  Afghan 
thrown  over  his  legs  and  a  pillow  beneath  his  head.  And  in 
that  dark,  shadowy  room,  its  curtains  drawn  rather  low,  so 
white  was  the  judge's  hair  and  his  face  that,  to  Sears  Ken- 


;6  FAIR   HARBOR 


drick,  just  in  from  the  light  out  of  doors,  it  was  at  first 
hard  to  distinguish  where  the  pillow  left  off  and  the  head 
began. 

But  the  head  on  the  pillow  stirred  and  the  judge  spoke. 

"Ah — good  afternoon,  Kendrick,"  he  said.  "Glad  to  see 
you.  .  .  .  Humph.  Can't  see  much  of  you,  can  I?  Here, 
Emmeline,  put  those  shades  up,  will  you?" 

The  housekeeper  moved  toward  the  windows,  but  she 
protested  as  she  moved. 

"Now,  Judge,"  she  said,  "I  don't  believe  you  want  them 
winder  curtains  strung  way  up,  do  you  ?  I  hauled  'em  down 
purpose  so's  the  sun  wouldn't  get  in  your  eyes." 

"Um — yes.  Well,  you  haul  'em  up  again.  And  don't 
you  haul  'em  down  till  I'm  dead.  You'll  do  it  then,  I  know, 
and  I  don't  want  to  attend  my  funeral  ahead  of  time." 

Mrs.  Tidditt  gasped. 

"Oh,  Judge  Knowles,  how  can  you  talk  so!"  she  wailed. 

"I  intend  to  talk  as  I  choose — while  I  can  talk  at  all.  .  .  . 
There,  there,  woman,  that's  enough.  Put  the  blasted  things 
up.  ...  Umph!  That's  better.  Sit  down,  Cap'n,  sit 
down.  I  want  to  look  at  you." 

The  captain  took  one  of  the  walnut  and  haircloth  chairs. 
The  judge  looked  at  him  and  he  looked  at  the  judge.  He 
remembered  the  latter  as  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  figure,  with 
a  ruddy  face,  black  hair  slightly  sprinkled  with  gray,  and 
a  nose  and  eye  like  an  eagle's.  The  man  in  the  armchair 
was  thin  and  shrunken,  the  face  was  deeply  lined,  and  face 
and  hands  and  hair  were  snow  white.  The  nose  was,  how 
ever,  more  eagle-like  than  ever,  and  the  eyes  beneath  the 
rough  white  brows  had  the  old  flash. 

Sears  waited  an  instant  for  him  to  speak,  but  he  did  not. 
So  the  captain  did. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Judge,"  he  began,  "for  not  comin' 
over  here  sooner.  I  got  your  message " 

Knowles  interrupted.  "Oh,  you  got  it,  did  you?"  he  said. 
"Humph !  I  told  Emmeline  to  get  word  to  you  and  she 

said Oh,  well,  never  mind  that.     Can't  waste  time.     I 

haven't  got  any  too  much  of  it,  or  strength  either.     Sorry 


FAIR    HARBOR  77 


to  hear  about  your  accident,  Cap'n.  Doctor  Sheldon  says 
you  had  a  close  call  of  it.  How  are  the  legs?" 

"Oh,  I  can  navigate  with  'em  after  a  fashion,  but  not 
far.  How  are  you,  Judge  ?  Gettin'  better  fast,  I  hope." 

The  head  on  the  pillow  gave  an  impatient  jerk.  "Your 
hope  is  lost  then.  Don't  waste  time  talking  about  me.  I'm 
going  to  die  and  I  know  it — and  before  long.  .  .  .  There, 
there,"  as  his  caller  uttered  a  protest,  "don't  bother  to  pre 
tend,  Kendrick.  We  aren't  children,  either  of  us,  although 
you're  a  good  many  years  younger  than  I  am ;  but  we're  both 
too  old  to  make-believe.  I'm  almost  through.  Well,  it's  all 
right.  I've  lived  past  my  three  score  and  ten  and  I'm  alone 
in  the  world  and  ought  not  to  mind  leaving  it,  I  suppose.  I 
don't  much.  It's  an  interesting  place  and  there  are  two  or 
three  matters  I  should  like  to  straighten  up  before  .... 
Humph!  I'm  the  one's  who's  wasting  the  time.  How  are 
you?  I  don't  mean  how  would  you  like  to  be  or  how  do 
your  fool  friends  and  the  doctor  tell  you  you  are — but  how 
are  you?" 

Captain  Sears  smiled.  It  had  been  a  long,  long  time  since 
any  one  had  talked  to  him  like  this.  Not  since  he  relin 
quished  a  mate's  rating  for  that  of  a  master.  But  he  did 
not  resent  it ;  he,  too,  was  sick  of  pretending. 

"I'm  in  bad  shape,  Judge,"  he  said.  "My  legs  are  better 
and  I  can  hobble  around  on  'em,  as  you  saw  when  I  hob 
bled  in  here.  But  as  to  whether  or  not  they  will  ever  be 
fit  for  sea  again  I — well,  I  doubt  it.  And  I  rather  guess  the 
doctor  doubts  it,  too.  I  don't  say  so  to  many,  haven't  said 
it  to  any  one  but  you,  but  it  looks  to  me  as  if  I  were  on  a  lee 
shore.  I  may  get  out  of  the  breakers  some  day — or  I  may 
just  lay  there  and  rot  and  drop  to  pieces.  .  .  .  Well,  as 
you  say,  what's  the  use  of  wastin'  time  talkin'  about  me?" 

"I've  got  a  reason  for  talking  about  you,  Cap'n.  So 
you're  not  confined  to  your  bed.  And  your  head  is  all  right, 
eh?" 

Kendrick  hesitated.  He  could  not  make  out  what  in  the 
world  the  man  was  driving  at. 

"Eh?"  repeated  the  judge. 


78  FAIR   HARBOR 


"Yes,  as  right  as  it  ever  was,  I  presume  likely.  Some 
times  I  think  that  may  not  be  sayin'  much." 

"When  a  man  thinks  that  way  it  is  a  favorable  symptom, 
according  to  my  experience.  From  what  I've  heard  and 
know,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  your  head  will  do  very  well.  Now 
there's  another  question.  Have  you  got  all  the  money  you 
need?" 

The  captain  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  He  did  not  answer 
immediately.  From  the  head  upon  the  pillow  came  a  rasp 
ing  chuckle. 

"Go  on,"  observed  Judge  Knowles,  "ask  it." 

Kendrick  stared  at  him.    "Ask  what?"  he  demanded. 

"The  question  you  had  in  mind.  If  I  hadn't  been  a  man 
with  one  foot  in  the  grave  you  would  have  asked  me  if  I 
considered  the  amount  of  money  you  had  any  of  my  damned 
business.  Isn't  that  right?" 

Sears  hesitated.    Then  he  grinned.    "Just  about,"  he  said. 

"I  thought  so.  Well,  in  a  way  it  is  my  business,  because, 
if  you  have  all  the  money  you  need,  fifteen  hundred  a  year 
for  the  next  two  or  three  years  won't  tempt  you  any.  And 
I  want  to  tempt  you,  Cap'n." 

Again  the  captain  was  silent  for  an  interval. 

"Fifteen  hundred  a  year?"  he  repeated,  slowly. 

"Yes." 

"For  what?" 

"For  services  to  be  rendered.  I've  been  looking  for  a 
man  with  time  on  his  hands,  who  has  been  used  to  managing, 
who  can  be  firm  when  it's  necessary,  has  had  enough  experi 
ence  of  the  world  to  judge  people  and  things  and  who  won't 
let  a  slick  tongue  get  the  better  of  him.  And  he  must  be 
honest.  I  think  you  fill  the  bill,  Cap'n  Kendrick." 

The  visitor  tugged  at  his  beard. 

"Look  here,  Judge  Knowles,"  he  said  crisply,  "what  are 
you  talkin'  about?  What's  the  joke?" 

"It  isn't  a  joke." 

"Well,  then  what  is  it?  You'll  have  to  give  me  my 
bearin's,  I'm  lost  in  the  fog.  Do  I  understand  you  to  mean 
that  you  are  offerin'  me  a  berth,  a  job  where  I  can  earn — no, 


FAIR    HARBOR  79 


I  won't  put  it  that  way,  where  I  will  be  paid  fifteen  hundred 
a  year?" 

"I  am,  and,"  with  another  sardonic  chuckle,  "I  rather 
think  you'll  earn  all  you  get.  Of  course  fifteen  hundred 
dollars  a  year  isn't  a  large  salary,  it  isn't  a  sea  captain's 
wage  and  share — not  such  a  captain  as  you've  been,  Ken- 
drick.  But,  as  I  see  it,  you  can't  go  to  sea  for  a  year  or 
two  at  least.  You  are  planning  to  stay  right  here  in  Bay- 
port.  Well,  while  you  are  here  this  thing  I  am  offering  you 
will,"  there  was  another  chuckle,  "keep  you  moderately  busy, 
and  you  will  be  earning  something.  It  may  be  that  fifteen 
hundred  won't  be  enough  to  be  worth  your  while.  Perhaps 
I  shouldn't  venture  to  offer  it  if  I  hadn't  heard — hadn't 
heard " 

Sears  interrupted. 

"What  you  heard  was  probably  true,"  he  said  crisply. 
"True  enough,  at  any  rate.  Fifteen  hundred  a  year  looks 
like  a  lot  to  me  now.  But  what  am  I  to  do  to  get  it,  that's 
the  question.  I'm  a  cripple,  don't  forget  that." 

"I  should  remember  it  if  I  thought  it  necessary.  You 
won't  handle  this  job  with  your  legs.  It  is  your  head  I 
want.  Cap'n  Kendrick,  I  want  you  to  take  charge — take 
command,  if  you  had  rather  we  used  seafaring  lingo,  of  that 
establishment  next  door  to  where  you  are  living  now.  I 
want  you  to  act  as — well,  we'll  call  it  captain  of  the  Fair 
Harbor." 

Captain  Sears's  eyes  and  mouth  opened.  His  chair  creaked 
as  he  leaned  forward  and  then  slowly  leaned  back  again. 

"You — you — "  he  gasped,  "you  want  me  to — to  manage 
that — that  old  women's  home?" 

"Yes." 

"Me?"      • 

"Yes ....     Here !  where  are  you  going  ?" 

The  visitor  had  risen. 

"Stop!"  shouted  Judge  Knowles.  "Where  are  you  go- 
ing?" 

The  captain  breathed  heavily. 

"I'm  goin'  to  send  for  the  doctor,"  he  declared.  "One  of 
us  two  needs  him." 


J 


CHAPTER  V 

UDGE  KNOWLES'S  answer  to  his  caller's  assertion 
concerning-  the  need  of  a  physician's  services  was 
another  chuckle. 

"Sit  down,  Cap'n,"  he  ordered. 

Kendrick  shook  his  head.    "No,"  he  began,  "I'm " 

"Sit  down." 

"Judge,  look  here :  I  don't  suppose  you're  serious,  but  if 
you  are,  I  tell  you " 

"No,  I'm  going  to  tell  you.    SIT  DOWN." 

This  time  the  invalid's  voice  was  raised  to  such  a  pitch 
that  Mrs.  Tidditt  came  hurrying  from  the  kitchen. 

"My  soul  and  body,  Judge!"  she  exclaimed.  "What  is  it? 
What  is  the  matter?" 

Her  employer  turned  upon  her. 

"The  matter  is  that  that  confounded  door  is  open  again," 
he  snapped. 

"Why — why,  of  course  'tis.  I  just  opened  it  when  I  came 
in." 

"Umph!  Yes.  Well  then,  hurry  up  and  shut  it  when 
you  go  out.  Shut  it!" 

Emmeline,  going,  not  only  shut  but  slammed  the  door. 
The  judge  smiled  grimly. 

"Sit  down,  Kendrick,"  he  commanded  once  more,  pant- 
mg.  "Sit  down,  I — I'm  out  of  breath.  Confound  that 
woman !  She  seems  to  think  I'm  four  years  old.  Ah — ah — 
whew !" 

His  exhaustion  was  so  apparent  that  Sears  was  alarmed. 

"Don't  you  think,  Judge "  he  began,  but  was  inter 
rupted. 

"Sshh !"  ordered  Knowles.  "Wait.  .  .  .  Wait.  .  .  . 
I'll  be  all  right  in  a  minute !" 

80 


FAIR    HARBOR  81 


The  captain  waited.  It  took  more  than  a  minute,  and 
even  then  the  judge's  voice  was  husky  and  his  sentences 
broken,  but  his  determination  was  unshaken. 

"I  want  you  to  listen  to  me,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  he  said. 
"I  know  it  sounds  crazy,  this  proposal  of  mine,  but  it  isn't. 
How  much  do  you  know  about  this  Fair  Harbor  place ;  its 
history  and  so  on?" 

Captain  Sears  explained  that  his  sister  had  written  him 
some  facts  concerning  it  and  that  recently  Judah  Cahoon  had 
told  him  more  details.  The  judge  wished  to  know  what 
Judah  had  told.  When  informed  he  nodded. 

"That's  about  right,  so  far  as  it  goes,"  he  admitted. 
"Fairly  straight,  for  a  Bayport  yarn.  It  doesn't  go  far 
enough,  though.  Here  is  the  situation: 

"Lobelia,  when  she  first  conceived  the  fool  notion,"  he 
said,  "came  to  me,  of  course,  to  arrange  it.  I  was  her 
father's  lawyer  for  years,  and  so  naturally  I  was  looking  out 
for  her  affairs.  I  said  all  I  could  against  it,  but  she  was 
determined,  and  had  her  way.  She,  through  me,  set  aside 
the  Sylvanus  Seymour  house  and  land  to  be  used  as  a  home 
for  what  she  called  'mariners'  women'  as  long  as — well,  as 
long  as  she  should  continue  to  want  it  used  for  that  pur 
pose.  She  would  have  been  contented  to  pay  the  bills  as  they 
came,  but,  of  course,  there  was  no  business  method  in  that, 
so  we  arranged  that  she  was  to  hand  over  to  me  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars  in  bonds,  the  income  from  that  sum,  plus  the 
entrance  fees  and  one  hundred  dollars  yearly  paid  by  each 
inmate,  was  to  run  the  place.  That  is  the  way  it  has  been 
run.  She  christened  it  the  Fair  Harbor.  Heaven  knows 
I  had  nothing  to  do  with  that. 

"For  a  year  or  so  she  lived  there  herself  and  had  a 
beautiful  time  queening  it  over  the  inmates.  Then  that 
Phillips  chap  drifted  into  Bayport." 

The  captain  interrupted  here.  "Oh,  then  the  Fair  Har 
bor  was  off  the  ways  before  she  married  Phillips  ?"  he  said. 
"Judah  told  me  it  was  afterwards." 

"He's  wrong.     No,  the  thing  had  been  running  two  years 


82  FAIR    HARBOR 


when  that  confounded.  .  .  .  Humph!  You  never  met 
Egbert  Phillips,  did  you,  Cap'n?" 

"No." 

"You've  heard  about  him?" 

"Only  what  Judah  told  me  the  other  day." 

"Humph!    What  did  he  tell?" 

"Why,  he — he  gave  me  to  understand  that  this  Phillips 
was  a  pretty  smooth  article." 

"Smooth!  Why,  Kendrick,  he  is.  ...  But  there, 
you'll  meet  him  some  day  and  no  feeble  words  of  mine 
could  do  him  justice.  Besides  all  my  words  are  getting  too 
feeble  to  waste — even  on  anything  as  beautiful  as  Egbert 
the  great.  .  .  .  And  that  condemned  doctor  will  be  here 
pretty  soon,  so  we  must  get  on.  ...  Ah.  .  .  .  Well, 
he  came  here  to  teach  singing,  Phillips  did,  and  he  had  all 
the  women  in  tune  before  the  first  lesson  was  over.  They 
said  he  was  wonderful,  and  he  was — good  God,  yes !  They 
kept  on  thinking  he  was  wonderful  until  he  married  Lobelia 
Seymour." 

"Then  they  changed  their  minds,  eh?" 

"Humph !  You  don't  know  women,  do  you,  Cap'n  ?  Never 
mind,  you've  got  time  enough  left  to  learn  in  ....  No, 
they  didn't  change  their  minds.  They  thought  Egbert  was 
as  wonderful  as  ever,  but  they  agreed  that  Lobelia  had 
roped  him  in.  She  had  roped  him  in!  Oh,  lord!  .  .  . 
Well,  they  were  married  and  went  to  Boston  to  live.  After 
wards  they  went  to  Europe.  Five  years  ago  they  came  back 
here  for  a  week's  visit.  Cahoon  tell  you  about  that?" 

"No." 

"Probably  he  didn't  know  about  it.  They  did,  though,  and 
stayed  here  with  me,  of  course.  Lobelia  settled  that,  I 
imagine — one  of  the  times  when  she  settled  something  her 
self.  And  while  she  was  here  she  and  I  settled  something 
else.  She  added  a  codicil  to  her  will  making  the  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars  in  my  possession  and  the  house  and  Seymour 
land  a  gift,  absolute,  to  the  Fair  Harbor.  And  she  appointed 
me  as  sole  trustee  of  the  fund  and  financial  manager  of  the 
home,  with  authority  to  appoint  my  own  successor.  And 


FAIR    HARBOR  83 


her  husband  didn't  know  a  thing  about  it.  Didn't  when  they 
went  away ;  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  whether  he  does  now  or 
not,  but  he  didn't  then.  No,  sir,  we  settled  the  Fair  Harbor 
fund  and  Egbert's  hash,  so  far  as  it  was  concerned.  Ha,  ha ! 
And  a  blessed  good  job,  too,  Kendrick.  .  .  .  Hand  me 
that  glass  of  water,  will  you?  Thanks." 

He  drank  a  swallow  or  two  of  water  and  lay  back  upon 
the  pillow.  Captain  Sears  was  a  little  anxious.  He  sug 
gested  that,  perhaps,  he  had  better  be  told  the  rest  another 
time. 

"I  think  you  had  better  rest  now,  Judge,"  he  counseled. 
The  judge  consigned  the  "rest"  idea  to  a  place  where,  accord 
ing  to  tradition,  there  is  very  little  of  it. 

"I  want  you  to  hear  this,"  he  snapped.  "Don't  bother  me, 
but  listen.  .  .  .  Where  was  I?  ...  Oh,  yes.  .  .  . 
Well,  Lobelia  and  her  husband  went  away,  to  Europe  again. 
They  have  been  there  ever  since,  living  in  Italy.  Egbert 

finds  the  climate  there  agrees  with  him,  I  suppose 

Humph !  .  .  .  I  have  had  letters  from  Lobelia.  The  later 
ones  were  shorter  and  not  encouraging.  She  wrote  that 
she  wasn't  well  and  the  doctors  didn't  seem  to  help  her  much. 
After  two  or  three  of  these  letters  I  wrote  one,  myself — to 
the  American  consul  at  Florence.  He  is  the  son  of  a  good 
friend  of  mine.  I  explained  the  situation  and  asked  him 
to  find  out  just  what  ailed  her  and  what  the  prospects  were. 
His  reply  explained  things.  Poor  Lobelia  is  in  my  position 
— except  that  my  age  entitles  me  to  be  there  and  hers 
doesn't ;  she  has  an  incurable  disease  and  she  is  likely  to  die 
at  any  time.  No  hope  for  her.  And  now,  it  seems  she  has 
found  it  out.  About  a  month  ago  I  had  another  letter  from 
her.  .  .  .  Humph!  .  .  .  Wait  a  minute,  Cap'n.  Give 
me  that  glass  again,  will  you.  Sorry  to  be  such  a  condemned 
nuisance — particularly  to  other  people ....  Wait !  Hold 
on!  When  I've  finished  you  can  talk.  Hear  the  rest  of  it 
first. 

"Lobelia's  latest — last,  I  shouldn't  wonder — letter  was  a 
sad  sort  of  a  thing.  I'm  a  tough  old  fellow,  but  I  declare 
I'm  sorry  for  that  poor  woman.  Fool  to  marry  Phillips? 


84  FAIR    HARBOR 


Of  course  she  was,  but  most  of  us  are  fools,  some  time  or 
other.  And,  if  I  don't  miss  my  guess,  she  has  repented  of 
her  foolishness  many  times  and  all  the  time.  She  wrote  me 

she  knew  she  was  going  to  die.  And  she  said But  here 

is  the  letter.  Read  it,  that  page  of  it." 

He  fumbled  among  the  papers  and  books  on  the  table 
beside  him,  selected  a  sheet  of  paper,  covered  with  closely 
written  lines,  and  extended  it  in  a  shaking  hand  to  his  caller. 

"That  explains  things  a  little,"  he  said.  "It's  illuminating. 
Read  it." 

Captain  Sears  read.  .  .  .  "And  so  I  am  very  anxious, 
dear  Judge  Knowles,  whatever  else  happens,  that  the  Fair 
Harbor  shall  always  be  as  it  is,  a  home  for  sisters  and 
widows  and  daughters  of  men  who  went  down  to  the  sea 
in  ships,  as  father  did.  I  know  he  would  have  liked  it.  And 
please,  after  I'm  gone,  don't  let  it  be  sold  or  given  up,  or 
anything  like  that.  I  am  asking  this  of  you,  because  I  know 
I  can  trust  you.  You  have  proved  it  so  many  times.  And — 
I  never  have  written  you  this  before  but  it  is  true — I  have  so 
little  left  except  the  Fair  Harbor  and  its  endowment.  You 
will  wonder  where  the  money  has  gone.  I  do  not  know.  It 
seems  to  have  slipped  away  little  by  little  and  neither  my 
husband  nor  I  can  account  for  .  .  .  ." 

The  page  ended  there.  The  captain  would  have  handed 
it  back  to  Knowles,  but  the  latter  asked  him  to  put  it  on 
the  table. 

"Put  it  in  the  envelope  and  put  the  envelope  in  the 
drawer,  will  you,  Kendrick  ?"  he  said.  "My  housekeeper  is  a 
good  housekeeper,  but  what  is  mine  is  hers — including  cor 
respondence.  .  .  .  Well,  you  see?  She  can't  account  for 
the  disappearance  of  the  money.  I  can.  When  you  have  a 
five  thousand  dollar  income  and  spend  ten  thousand  you  can 
account  for  a  lot.  .  .  .  Humph!  Well,  the  fact  is  that  I 
am.  expecting  to  hear  of  Lobelia's  death  at  any  time.  She 
may  be  dead  to-day — or  to-morrow — or  next  week.  And  as 

soon  as  I  hear  of  it  I  shall  say  to  myself Humph ! 

Cap'n,  you  know  how  the  Old  Farmer's  Almanac,  along  in 
November,  prophesies  the  weather,  don't  you?  'About  this 


FAIR    HARBOR  85 


time  look  out  for  snow/  Yes,  well,  on  a  date  about  a  month 
after  the  day  I  hear  of  Lobelia  Phillips's  death  I  should 
write  on  the  calendar:  'About  this  time  look  for  Eg 
bert/  .  .  .  Humph.  ...  Eh?  See,  don't  you,  Cap'n 
Kendrick?" 

Kendrick  smiled,  he  couldn't  help  it.  He  tugged  thought 
fully  at  his  beard. 

"Yes,"  he  admitted,  "I  guess  likely  I  see.  But  I  don't  see 
where  I  come  in.  You  can  handle  Egbert,  Judge,  or  I  don't 
know  much  about  men." 

The  judge  snorted.  "Handle  him,"  he  repeated.  "I 
think  I  could  handle  him — and  enjoy  the  job.  The  trouble 
is  I  shan't  have  the  chance.  I  won't  be  here.  I'll  be  in  the 
graveyard." 

He  spoke  of  it  as  casually  as  he  might  of  Boston  or  New 
York.  Again  his  listener  could  not  help  but  protest. 

"Why,  Judge,"  he  began,  "that's  perfectly  ridiculous. 
You " 

The  judge  interrupted.  "Perhaps,"  he  said,  drily.  "In 
fact,  I  agree  with  you.  The  graveyard  is  a  ridiculous  place 
for  anybody  to  be,  but  I  shall  be  there — and  soon.  But  I 
am  not  going  to  let  it  interfere  with  my  plans  concerning  the 
Fair  Harbor.  Lobelia  Seymour  I've  known  since  she  was  a 
little  girl,  and  whether  I'm  dead  or  alive,  I'm  going  to  have 
her  wishes  carried  out.  That's  why  I'm  telling  you  these 
things,  Sears  Kendrick.  I  am  counting  on  you  to  carry  them 
out." 

The  captain  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 

"Why  pick  on  me?"  he  asked,  drily. 

"Why?  Because  I've  got  to  pick  on  somebody  and  do  it 
while  I  have  the  strength  to  pick.  You  and  I  have  never 
been  close  friends,  Kendrick,  but  I've  watched  you  and  kept 
track  of  you  for  years,  in  a  general  sort  of  way.  Your 
sister  and  I  have  had  a  long  acquaintanceship.  There's 
another  woman  who  made  a  mistake.  .  .  .  Eh?" 

Sears  nodded. 

"I'm  afraid  so,"  he  admitted.  "Joel  is  a  good  enough 
fellow,  in  his  way,  but " 


86  FAIR    HARBOR 


"But — that's  it.  Well,  he's  got  a  good  wife  and  she's 
your  sister.  I  know  you  can  handle  this  Fair  Harbor  job  if 
you  will  and  if  you  take  it  on  I  shall  go  to — well,  to  that 
graveyard  we  were  talking  about,  with  an  easier  mind.  Look 
here — why " 

"Hold  on  a  minute,  Judge.  Heave  to  and  let  me  say  a 
word.  If  there  wasn't  any  other  reason  why  I  shouldn't 
feel  like  takin'  the  wheel  of  an  old  woman's  home  there 
would  be  this  one:  You  need  a  business  man  there  and 
I'm  no  business  man." 

"How  do  you  know  you're  not?" 

"Because  I've  just  proved  it.  You  heard  somethin'  of 
how  my  voyage  in  business  ashore  turned  out.  I'll  tell  you 
the  truth  about  it." 

He  did,  briefly,  giving  the  facts  of  his  disastrous  sojourn 
in  ship-chandlery. 

"So  that's  how  good  a  business  man  7  am,"  he  said  in 
conclusion.  "And  I'm  a  cripple  besides.  Much  obliged, 
Judge,  but  you'll  have  to  ship  another  skipper,  I'm  afraid." 

He  was  rising  but  Judge  Knowles  barked  a  profane  order 
for  him  to  keep  his  seat. 

"I  know  all  that,"  he  snapped.  "Knew  about  it  just  after 
it  happened.  And  I  know,  too,  that  you  paid  your  share 
of  the  debts  dollar  for  dollar.  I'll  risk  you  in  this  job  I'm 
offering  you.  .  .  .  Yes,  and  you're  the  only  man  I  will 
risk — the  only  one  in  sight,  that  is.  Come  now,  don't  say 
no.  Think  it  over.  I'll  give  you  a  week  to  think  it  over  in. 
I'd  give  you  a  month,  but  I  might  not  be  here  at  the  end  of 
it.  ...  Will  you  take  the  offer  under  consideration  and 
then  come  back  and  have  another  talk  with  me  ?  Eh  ?  Will 
you?" 

The  captain  hesitated.  He  wanted  to  say  no,  of  course, 
should  say  it  sooner  or  later,  but  he  hated  to  be  too  abrupt 
in  his  refusal.  After  all,  the  offer,  although  absurd,  was,  in 
a  way,  a  compliment  and  he  liked  the  old  judge.  So  he  hesi 
tated,  stammered  and  then  asked  another  question. 

"You've  got  a  skipper  aboard  the  Fair  Harbor  already, 


FAIR    HARBOR  87 


haven't  you?"  he  inquired.  "Judah  to^  me  that  Cap'n  Ike 
Berry's  widow  was  runnin'  the  place." 

"Humph!    That  isn't  all  he  told  you,  is  it?" 

Kendrick  smiled.     "Why"— he  hesitated,  "I—" 

"Come,  come,  come!  Of  course  he  told  you  that  Cordelia 
Berry  was  another  one  of  those  mistakes  we've  been  talking 
about.  She  is,  but  her  husband  was  one  of  my  best  friends 
and  his  daughter  is  another.  No  mistake  there,  Cap'n  Ken 
drick,  I  tell  you.  .  .  .  But  you've  met  Elizabeth,  I  under 
stand,  eh?" 

He  chuckled  as  he  said  it.  Sears  was  surprised  and  a  trifle 
confused.  Evidently  she  had  told  of  their  encounter  in 
Judah's  garden. 

"Well,  yes,"  he  admitted.    "We  met." 

"Ha,  ha !  So  I  heard.  Handled  the  poultry  pretty  well, 
didn't  she?  She  ought  to,  she's  had  experience  in  handling 
old  hens  for  some  time." 

"I  presume  likely.  Then  I  don't  see  why  you  don't  let  her 
keep  on  handlin'  'em.  What  do  you  want  me  for?" 

"Oh,  damnation,  man,  haven't  I  told  you!  I  want  you 
because  I'm  going  to  die  and  somebody — some  man — must 
take  my  place.  .  .  .  Look  here,  Kendrick.  I  appoint  you 
general  manager  of  the  Fair  Harbor,  take  it  or  leave  it.  But 
if  you  leave  it  don't  do  it  for  a  week,  and,  before  you  do, 
promise  me  you'll  go  over  there  some  day  and  look  around. 
Meet  Cordelia  and  talk  to  her,  meet  Elizabeth  and  talk  to  her. 
Meet  some  of  the — er — hens  and  talk  to  them.  But,  this  is 
the  main  thing,  look  around,  listen,  see  for  yourself.  Then 
you  can  come  back  and,  if  you  accept,  we'll  discuss  details. 
Will  you  do  that  much  ?" 

Captain  Sears  looked  troubled.  "Why,  yes,  I  suppose 
so,"  he  said,  reluctantly,  "to  oblige  you,  Judge.  But  it's 
wasted  time,  I  shan't  accept.  Of  course  I  thank  you  for  the 
offer  and  all  that,  but  I  might  as  well,  seems  to  me,  say  no 
now  as  next  week." 

"No  such  thing.    And  you  will  go  there  and  look  around  ?" 

"Why — yes,  I  guess  so.    But  won't  the  Berry  woman  and 


88  FAIR    HARBOR 


the  rest  of  'em  think  I'm  nosin'  in  where  I  don't  belong?  1 
should,  if  I  were  they,  and  I'd  raise  a  row  about  it,  too." 

"Nonsense.  They  can't  object  to  your  making  a  neigh 
borly  call,  can  they?  And  if  they  do,  let  'em.  A  healthy 
row  won't  do  a  bit  of  harm  over  there.  Give  'em  the  devil, 
it's  what  they  need ....  See  here,  will  you  go  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Good !  And,  remember,  you  are  appointed  to  this  job  this 
minute  if  you  want  it.  Or  you  may  take  it  at  any  time 
during  the  week;  don't  bother  to  speak  to  me  first.  Fifteen 
hundred  a  year,  live  with  Cahoon  or  whoever  you  like, 
precious  little  to  do  except  be  generally  responsible  for  the 
Fair  Harbor — oh,  how  I  hate  that  syrupy,  sentimental 
name! — financially  and  in  a  business  way.  .  .  .  Easy  berth, 
as  you  sailors  would  say,  eh?  Ha,  ha!  .  .  .  Well,  good 
day,  Cap'n.  Can  you  find  your  way  out?  If  not  call  that 
eternally-lost  woman  of  mine  and  she'll  pilot  you.  .  .  . 
Ah.  .  .  .  yes  ....  And  just  hand  me  that  water  glass 
once  more ....  Thanks ....  I  shall  hope  to  hear  you've 
accepted  next  time  I  see  you.  We'll  talk  details  and  sign 
papers  then,  eh  ?  .  .  .  Oh,  yes,  we  will.  You  won't  be  fool 
enough  to  refuse.  Easy  berth,  you  know,  Kendrick.  And 
don't  forget  Egbert;  eh?  Ha,  ha.  .  .  .  Umph — ah, 
yes.  .  .  .  Where's  that  damned  housekeeper?" 

Mike  Callahan  asked  no  questions  as  he  drove  his  passen 
ger  back  to  the  General  Minot  place — no  direct  questions, 
that  is — but  it  was  quite  evident  that  his  curiosity  concerning 
the  reasons  for  Captain  Kendrick's  visit  was  intense. 

"Well,  the  ould  judge  seen  you  at  last,  Cap'n,"  he  ob 
served. 

"Yes." 

"I  expect  'twas  a  great  satisfaction  to  him,  eh?" 

"Maybe  so.  Looks  as  if  it  was  smurrin'  up  for  rain  over 
to  the  west'ard,  doesn't  it  ?" 

Mr.  Callahan  delivered  his  passenger  at  the  Minot  back 
door  and  departed,  looking  grumpy.  Then  Mr.  Cahoon  took 
his  turn. 

"Well,  Cap'n  Sears,"  he  said,  eagerly,  "vou  seen  him." 


FAIR    HARBOR  89 


"Yes,  Judah,  I  saw  him." 

"Um-hm.    Pretty  glad  to  see  you,  too,  wan't  he?" 

"I  hope  so." 

"Creepin*  prophets,  don't  you  know  so?  Ain't  he  been 
sendin'  word  by  Emmeline  Tidditt  that  he  wanted  to  see  you 
more'n  a  million  times?" 

"Guess  not.  So  far  as  I  know  he  only  wanted  to  see  me 
once." 

"No,  no,  no.  You  know  what  I  mean,  Cap'n  Sears.  .  .  . 
Well — er — er — you  seen  him,  anyway?" 

"Yes,  I  saw  him." 

"Um-hm  ...  so  you  said." 

"Yes,  I  thought  I  did." 

"Oh,  you  did — yes,  you  did.   .   .   .     Um-hm — er — yes." 

So  Judah,  too,  was  obliged  to  do  without  authentic  in 
formation  concerning  Judge  Knowles's  reason  for  wishing 
to  meet  Sears  Kendrick.  He  hinted  as  far  as  he  dared,  but 
experience  gained  through  years  of  sea  acquaintanceship 
with  his  former  commander  prevented  his  doing  more  than 
hint.  The  captain  would  tell  just  exactly  what  he  wished 
and  no  more,  Judah  knew.  He  knew  also  that  attempting 
to  learn  more  than  that  was  likely  to  be  unpleasant  as  well 
as  unprofitable.  It  was  true  that  his  beloved  "Cap'n  Sears" 
was  no  longer  his  commander  but  merely  his  lodger,  never 
theless  discipline  was  discipline.  Mr.  Cahoon  was  dying  to 
know  why  the  judge  wished  to  talk  to  the  captain,  but  he 
would  have  died  in  reality  rather  than  continue  to  work 
the  pumps  against  the  latter's  orders,  expressed  or  intimated. 
Judah  was  no  mutineer. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SEARS  put  in  a  disagreeable  day  or  two  after  his  call 
upon  the  judge.  He  was  dissatisfied  with  the  ending 
of  their  interview.  He  felt  that  he  had  been  foolishly 
soft-hearted  in  promising  to  call  at  the  Fair  Harbor,  or,  to 
consider  for  another  hour  the  preposterous  offer  of  manage 
ment  of  that  institution.  He  must  say  no  in  the  end.  How 
much  better  to  have  said  it  then  and  there.  Fifteen  hundred 
a  year  looked  like  a  lot  of  money  to  him.  It  tempted  him, 
that  part  of  the  proposition.  But  it  did  not  tempt  him  suffi 
ciently  to  overcome  the  absurdities  of  the  remaining  part. 
How  could  he  manage  an  old  woman's  home?  And  what 
would  people  say  if  he  tried? 

Nevertheless,  he  had  promised  to  visit  the  place  and  look 
it  over  and  the  promise  must  be  kept.  He  dreaded  it  about 
as  much  as  he  had  ever  dreaded  anything,  but — he  had 
promised.  So  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day  following 
that  of  his  call  upon  Judge  Knowles  he  hobbled  painfully 
and  slowly  up  the  front  walk  of  the  Fair  Harbor  to  the  for 
midable  front  door,  with  its  great  South  Sea  shells  at  each 
end  of  the  granite  step — relics  of  Captain  Sylvanus's  early 
voyages — and  its  silver-plated  name  plate  with  "SEY 
MOUR"  engraved  upon  it  in  Gothic  lettering.  To  one 
looking  back  from  the  view-point  of  to-day  such  a  name 
plate  may  seem  a  bit  superfluous  and  unnecessary  in  a  vil 
lage  where  every  one  knew  not  only  where  every  one  else 
lived,  but  how  they  lived  and  all  about  them.  The  fact 
remains  that  in  Bayport  in  the  '7°'s  there  were  many  name 
plates. 

Sears  gave  the  glass  knob  beside  the  front  door  a  pull. 
From  the  interior  of  the  house  came  the  resultant  "JINGLE; 
jingle;  jingle,  jing,  jing."  Then  a  wait,  then  the  sound  of 

90 


FAIR    HARBOR  91 


footsteps  approaching  the  other  side  of  the  door.  Then  a 
momentary  glimpse  of  a  reconnoitering  eye  behind  one  of 
the  transparent  urns  engraved  in  the  ground  glass  pane. 
Then  a  rattle  of  bolt  and  latch  and  the  door  opened. 

The  woman  who  opened  it  was  rather  good  looking,  but 
also  she  looked — well,  if  the  captain  had  been  ordered  to 
describe  her  general  appearance  instantly,  he  would  have  said 
that  she  looked  "tousled."  She  was  fully  dressed,  of  course, 
but  there  was  about  her  a  general  appearance  of  having  just 
gotten  out  of  bed.  Her  hair,  rather  elaborately  coiffured, 
had  several  loose  strands  sticking  out  here  and  there.  She 
wore  a  gold  pin — an  oval  brooch  with  a  lock  of  hair  in  it — 
at  her  throat,  but  one  end  was  unfastened.  She  wore  cotton 
gloves,  with  holes  in  them. 

"Good  mornin',"  said  the  captain. 

The  woman  said  "Good  morning."  There  was  no  "r"  in 
the  "morning"  so,  remembering  what  he  had  heard  concern 
ing  Mrs.  Isaac  Berry's  rearing,  Kendrick  decided  that  this 
must  be  she. 

"This  is  Mrs.  Berry,  isn't  it?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes."  The  lady's  tone  was  not  too  gracious,  in  fact 
there  was  a  trace  of  suspicion  in  it,  as  if  she  was  expecting 
the  man  on  the  step  to  produce  a  patent  egg-beater  or  the 
specimen  volume  of  a  set  of  encyclopedias. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Berry,"  went  on  the  captain.  "My 
name  is  Kendrick.  I'm  your  neighbor  next  door,  and  Judge 
Knowles  asked  me  to  be  neighborly  and  cruise  over  and  call 
some  day.  So  I — er — so  I've  cruised,  you  see." 

Mrs.  Berry's  expression  changed.  She  seemed  surprised, 
perhaps  a  little  annoyed,  certainly  very  much  confused. 

"Why — why,  yes,  Mr.  Kendrick,"  she  stammered.  "I'm 
so  glad  you  did ....  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you ....  Ah — 
ah Won't  you  come  in  ?" 

Captain  Sears  entered  the  dark  front  hall.  It  smelt  like 
most  front  halls  of  that  day  in  that  town,  a  combination 
smell  made  up  of  sandal-wood  and  Brussels  carpet  and  hair 
cloth  and  camphor  and  damp  shut-up-ness. 


92  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Walk  right  in,  do,"  urged  Mrs.  Berry,  opening  the  parlor 
door.  The  captain  walked  right  in.  The  parlor  was  high- 
studded  and  square-pianoed  and  chromoed  and  oil-portraited 
and  black-walnutted  and  marble-topped  and  hairclothed. 
Also  it  had  the  fullest  and  most  satisfying  assortment  of 
whatnot  curios  and  alum  baskets  and  whale  ivory  and  shell 
frames  and  wax  fruit  and  pampas  grass.  There  was  a 
majestic  black  stove  and  window  lambrequins.  Which  is  to 
say  that  it  was  a  very  fine  specimen  of  a  very  best  parlor. 

"Do  sit  down,  Mr.  Kendrick,"  gushed  Mrs.  Berry,  moving 
about  a  good  deal  but  not,  apparently,  accomplishing  very 
much.  There  had  been  a  feather  duster  on  the  piano  when 
they  entered,  but  it,  somehow  or  other,  had  disappeared  be 
neath  the  piano  scarf — partially  disappeared,  that  is,  for  one 
end  still  protruded.  The  lady's  cotton  dusting-gloves  no 
longer  protected  her  hands  but  now  peeped  coyly  from  be 
hind  a  jig-sawed  photograph  frame  on  the  marble  mantel 
piece.  The  apron  she  had  worn  lay  on  the  floor  in  the 
shadow  of  the  table  cloth.  These  habiliments  of  menial 
domesticity  slid,  one  by  one,  out  of  sight — or  partially  so — 
as  she  bustled  and  chatted.  When,  after  a  moment,  she 
raised  a  window  shade  and  admitted  a  square  of  sunshine  to 
the  grand  apartment,  one  would  scarcely  have  guessed  that 
there  was  such  drudgery  as  housework,  certainly  no  one 
would  have  suspected  the  elegant  Mrs.  Cordelia  Berry  of 
being  intimately  connected  with  it. 

She  swept — in  those  days  the  breadth  of  skirts  made  all 
feminine  progress  more  or  less  of  a  sweep — across  the  room 
and  swished  gracefully  into  a  chair.  When  she  spoke  she 
raised  her  eyebrows,  at  the  end  of  the  sentence  she  lowered 
them  and  her  lashes.  She  smiled  much,  and  hers  was  still 
a  pretty  smile.  She  made  attractive  little  gestures  with  her 
hands. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  dropped  in,  Mr.  Kendrick,"  she  de 
clared.  "So  very  glad.  Of  course  if  we  had  known  when 
you  were  coming  we  might  have  been  a  little  better  prepared. 
But  there,  you  will  excuse  us,  I  know.  Elizabeth  and  I — 
Elizabeth  is  my  daughter,  Mr.  Kendrick.  .  .  .  But  it  is 


FAIR    HARBOR  93 


Captain  Kendrick,  isn't  it?  Of  course,  I  might  have  known. 
You  look  the  sea — you  know  what  I  mean — I  can  always 
tell.  My  dear  husband  was  a  captain.  You  knew  that,  of 
course.  And  in  the  old  days  at  my  girlhood  home  so  many, 
ittany  captains  used  to  come  and  go.  Our  old  home — my 
girlhood  home,  I  mean — was  always  open.  I  met  my  hus 
band  there.  .  .  .  Ah  me,  those  days  are  not  these  days! 
What  my  dear  father  would  have  said  if  he  could  have 
known.  .  .  .  But  we  don't  know  what  is  in  store  for  us, 
do  we?  ...  Oh,  dear!  .  .  .  It's  such  charming  weather, 
isn't  it,  Captain  Kendrick?" 

The  captain  admitted  the  weather's  charm.  He  had  not 
heard  a  great  deal  of  his  voluble  hostess's  chatter.  He  was 
there,  in  a  way,  on  business  and  he  was  wondering  how  he 
might,  without  giving  offence,  fulfill  his  promise  to  Judge 
Knowles  and  see  more  of  the  interior  of  the  Fair  Harbor. 
Of  the  matron  of  that  institution  he  had  already  seen! 
enough  to  classify  and  appraise  her  in  his  mind. 

Mrs.  Berry  rambled  on  and  on.  At  last,  out  of  the  tumult 
of  words,  Captain  Sears  caught  a  fragment  which  seemed 
to  him  pertinent  and  interesting. 

"Oh!"  he  broke  in.  "So  you  knew  I  was — er — hopeful 
of  droppin'  in  some  time  or  other?" 

"Why,  yes.  Elizabeth  knew.  Judge  Knowles  told  her 
you  said  you  hoped  to.  Of  course  we  were  delighted.  .  .  . 
The  poor  dear  judge !  We  are  so  fond  of  him,  my  daughter 
and  I.  He  is  so — so  essentially  aristocratic.  Oh,  if  you 
knew  what  that  means  to  me,  raised  as  I  was  among  the 
people  I  was.  There  are  times  when  I  sit  here  in  this 
dreadful  place  in  utter  despair — utter  ....  Oh — oh,  of 
course,  Captain  Kendrick,  I  wouldn't  have  you  imagine  that 
Elizabeth  and  I  don't  like  this  house.  We  love  it.  And 
dear  'Belia  Seymour  is  my  closest  friend.  But,  you 
know " 

She  paused,  momentarily,  and  the  captain  seized  the  oppor 
tunity 

"So  Judge  Knowles  told  you  I  was  liable  to  call,  did  he  ?" 


94  FAIR    HARBOR 


he  queried.  He  was  somewhat  surprised.  He  wondered  if 
the  Judge  had  hinted  at  a  reason  for  his  visit. 

"Why,  yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Berry,  "he  told  Elizabeth.  She 

said Oh,  here  you  are,  dearie.  Captain  Kendrick,  our 

next  door  neighbor,  has  run  in  for  a  little  call.  Isn't  it  de 
lightful  of  him?  Captain  Kendrick,  this  is  my  daughter, 
Elizabeth." 

She  had  entered  from  the  door  behind  the  captain's  chair. 
Now  she  came  forward  as  he  rose  from  it. 

"How  do  you  do,  Cap'n  Kendrick  ?"  she  said.  "I  am  very 
glad  to  see  you  again.  Judge  Knowles  told  me  you  were 
planning  to  call." 

She  extended  her  hand  and  the  captain  took  it.  She  was 
smiling,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  smile  was  an  absent- 
minded  one.  In  fact — of  course  it  might  be  entirely  his 
imagination — he  had  a  feeling  that  she  was  troubled  about 
something. 

However,  he  had  no  time  to  surmise  or  even  reply  to 
her  greeting.  Mrs.  Berry  had  caught  a  word  in  that  greet 
ing  which  to  her  required  explanation. 

"Again?"  she  repeated.  "Why,  Elizabeth,  have  you  and 
Captain  Kendrick  met  before  ?" 

"Yes,  Mother,  that  day  when  our  hens  got  into  Mr.  Ca- 
hoon's  garden.  You  remember  I  told  you  at  the  time." 

"I  don't  remember  any  such  thing.  I  remember  Elvira 
said  that  she  and  Aurora  met  him  one  afternoon,  but  I  don't 
remember  your  saying  anything  about  it." 

"I  told  you.    No  doubt  you  have  forgotten  it." 

"Nonsense!  you  know  I  never  forget.  If  there  is  one 
thing  I  can  honestly  pride  myself  on  it  is  a  good  memory. 

You  may  have  thought  you  told  me,  but Why,  what's 

that  noise?" 

The  noise  was  a  curious  babble  or  chatter,  almost  as  if  the 
sound-proof  door — if  there  was  such  a  thing — of  a  parrot 
cage  had  been  suddenly  opened.  It  came  from  somewhere 
at  the  rear  of  the  house  and  was,  apparently,  produced  by  a 
number  of  feminine  voices  all  speaking  very  fast  and  simul 
taneously. 


FAIR    HARBOR  95 


Elizabeth  turned,  glanced  through  the  open  door  behind 
her,  and  then  at  Mrs.  Berry.  There  was  no  doubt  now 
concerning  the  troubled  expression  upon  her  face.  She  was 
troubled. 

"Mother — "  she  began,  quickly.  "Excuse  us,  Cap'n  Ken- 
drick,  please — mother,  have  Elvira  and  Susan  Brackett  been 
talking  to  you  about  buying  that  collection  of — of  what  they 
call  garden  statuary  at  Mrs.  Seth  Snowden's  auction  in 
Harniss?" 

And  now  Mrs.  Berry,  too,  looked  troubled.  She  turned 
red,  stammered  and  fidgetted. 

"Why— why,  Elizabeth,"  she  said,  "I— I  don't  see  why 
you  want  to  discuss  that  now.  We  have  a  visitor  and  I'm 
sure  Captain  Kendrick  isn't  interested." 

Her  daughter  did  not  seem  to  care  whether  the  visitor  was 
interested  or  not. 

"Tell  me,  mother,  please,"  she  urged.  "Have  they  been 
talking  with  you  about  their  plan  to  buy  that — those  things?" 

Mrs.  Berry's  confusion  increased.  "Why — why,  yes,"  she 
admitted.  "Elvira  did  tell  me  about  it,  something  about  it. 
She  said  it  was  beautiful — the  fountain  and  the — the  deer 
and — and  how  pretty  they  would  look  on  the  lawn  and " 

"Mother,  you  didn't  give  them  the  least  encouragement, 
did  you  ?  They  say — Elvira  and  Mrs.  Brackett  say  you  told 
them  you  thought  it  a  beautiful  idea  and  that  you  were  in 
favor  of  what  they  call  their  committee  going  to  the  sale 
next  Monday  and  buying  those — those  cast-iron  dogs  and 
children  with  the  Fair  Harbor  money  ?  I  am  sure  you  didn't 
say  that,  did  you,  mother?  .  .  .  I'm  awfully  sorry,  Cap'n 
Kendrick,  to  bring  this  matter  into  the  middle  of  your  call, 
but  really  it  is  very  important  and  it  can't  be  postponed, 
because  ....  Tell  me,  Mother,  they  will  be  here  in  a 
moment.  You  didn't  say  any  such  thing,  did  you?" 

Mrs.  Berry's  fine  eyes — they  had  been  called  "starlike" 
twenty  years  before,  by  romantic  young  gentlemen — filled 
with  tears.  She  wrung  her  hands. 

"I— I  only  said—"  she  stammered,  "I Oh,  I  don't 

think  I  said  anything  except — except  that Well,  they 


96  FAIR    HARBOR 


were  so  sure  they  were  lovely  and  a  great  bargain — and  you 
know  Captain  Snowden's  estate  in  Harniss  was  perfectly 
charming.  You  know  it  was,  Elizabeth !" 

"Mother,  you  didn't  tell  them  they  might  buy  them  ?" 

"Why— why,  no,  I— I  don't  think  I  did.  I— I  couldn't 
have  because  I  never  do  anything  like  that  without  consult 
ing  you.  .  .  .  Oh,  Elizabeth,  please,  don't  let  us  have  a 
scene  here,  with  Captain  Kendrick  present.  What  will  he 
think?  Oh,  dear,  dear!" 

Her  handkerchief  was  called  into  requisition.  Sears  Ken 
drick  rose  from  his  chair.  Obviously  he  must  go  and,  just 
as  obviously,  he  knew  that  in  order  to  fulfill  his  promise  to 
the  judge  in  spirit  as  well  as  letter  he  ought  to  stay.  This 
was  just  the  sort  of  situation  to  shed  light  upon  the  inner 
secrets  of  the  Fair  Harbor  and  its  management.  .  .  . 
Nevertheless,  he  was  not  going  to  stay.  His  position  was 
much  too  spy  like  to  suit  him.  But  before  he  could  move 
there  were  other  developments. 

While  Miss  Berry  and  her  mother  had  been  exchanging 
hurried  questions  and  answers  the  parrot-cage  babble  from 
the  distant  places  somewhere  at  the  end  of  the  long  entry 
beyond  the  door  had  been  continuous.  Now  it  suddenly 
grew  louder.  Plainly  the  babblers  were  approaching  along 
that  entry  and  babbling  as  they  came. 

A  moment  more  and  they  were  in  the  room,  seven  of 
them.  In  the  lead  was  the  dignified  Miss  Elvira  herself,  an 
impressive  figure  of  gentility  in  black  silk  and  a  hair  breast 
pin.  Close  behind  her,  of  course,  was  the  rotund  Mrs. 
Aurora  Chase,  and  equally  close — yes  even  a  little  in  advance 
of  Aurora,  was  a  solidly  built  female  with  gray  hair,  a 
square  chin,  and  a  very  distinct  mustache.  The  others  were 
in  the  rear,  but  as  they  came  in  one  of  these,  a  little  woman 
in  a  plain  gingham  dress,  who  wore  steel  spectacles  upon  a 
sharp  little  nose,  left  the  group  and  took  a  stand  a  little  apart, 
regarding  the  company  with  lifted  chin  and  a  general  air  of 
determination  and  uncompromising  defiance.  Later  on  Cap 
tain  Sears  was  destined  to  learn  that  the  little  woman  was 
Mrs.  Esther  Tidditt,  and  the  lady  with  the  mustache  Mrs. 


FAIR    HARBOR  97 


Susanna  Brackett.  And  that  the  others  were  respectively 
Mrs.  Hattie  Thomas,  Miss  Desire  Peasley,  and  Mrs.  Con 
stance  Cahoon.  Each  of  the  seven  was,  of  course,  either  a 
captain's  widow  or  his  sister. 

Just  at  the  moment  the  captain,  naturally,  recognized 
nobody  except  Miss  Snowden  and  Mrs.  Chase.  Nor  did  he 
notice  individual  peculiarities  except  that  something1,  excite 
ment  or  a  sudden  jostle  or  something,  had  pushed  Aurora's 
rippling  black  locks  to  one  side,  with  the  result  that  the  part 
which  divided  the  ripples,  instead  of  descending  plumb-line 
fashion  from  the  crown  of  the  head  to  a  point  directly  in  the 
center  of  the  forehead,  now  had  a  diagonal  twist  and  ended 
over  the  left  eye.  The  effect  was  rather  astonishing,  as  if 
the  upper  section  of  the  lady's  head  had  slipped  its  moor 
ings. 

He  had  scarcely  time  to  notice  even  this,  certainly  none  in 
which  to  speculate  concerning  its  cause.  Miss  Snowden, 
who  held  a  paper  in  her  hand,  stepped  forward  and  began  to 
speak,  gesticulating  with  the  paper  as  she  did  so.  She  paid 
absolutely  no  attention  to  the  masculine  visitor.  She  was 
trembling  with  excitement  and  it  is  doubtful  if  she  even  saw 
him. 

"Mrs.  Berry,"  she  began,  "we  are  here — we  have  come 

here,  these  ladies  and  I — we  have  come  here — we Oh, 

what  is  it?" 

This  last  was  addressed  to  Mrs.  Chase,  who  was  tugging 
at  her  skirt. 

"Talk  louder,"  cautioned  Aurora,  in  a  stage  whisper.  "I 
can't  hear  you." 

With  an  impatient  movement  Miss  Snowden  freed  her 
garment  and  began  again. 

"Mrs.  Berry,"  she  repeated,  "we  are  here,  these  ladies  and 
I,  to — to  ask  a  question  and  to  express  our  opinion  on  a  very 
important  matter.  We  are  all  agreed 

Here  she  was  again  interrupted,  this  time  by  Mrs.  Esther 
Tidditt,  the  little  woman  in  the  gingham  dress.  Mrs.  Tid- 
ditt's  tone  was  brisk  and  sharp. 

"No,  we   ain't  agreed   neither,"   she   announced,    with   a 


98  FAIR    HARBOR 


snap  of  her  head  which  threatened  shipwreck  to  the  steel 
spectacles.  '7  think  it's  everlastin'  foolishness.  Don't  you 
say  Fm  agreed  to  it,  Elvira  Snowden." 

Elvira  drew  her  thin  form  erect  and  glared.  "We  are 
practically  agreed,"  she  proclaimed  crushingly.  "You  are 
the  only  one  who  doesn't  agree." 

"Humph!  And  I'm  the  only  one  that  is  practical.  Of 
all  the  silly " 

"Esther  Tidditt,  was  you  appointed  to  do  the  talking  for 
this  committee  or  was  I  ?" 

"You  was,  but  that  don't  stop  me  from  talkin'  when  I 
want  to.  I  ain't  on  the  committee,  thank  the  good  lord. 
I'm  my  own  committee." 

This  declaration  of  independence  was  received  with  an 
outburst  of  indignant  exclamations,  in  the  midst  of  which 
Mrs.  Chase  could  be  heard  demanding  to  be  told  what  was 
the  matter  and  who  said  what.  Elizabeth  Berry  stilled  the 
hubbub. 

"Hush,  hush !"  she  pleaded.  "Don't,  Esther,  please.  You 
can  say  your  word  later.  I  want  mother — and  Cap'n  Ken- 
drick — to  hear  this,  all  of  it." 

The  captain  was  still  standing.  He  had  risen  when  the 
"committee"  entered  the  room.  Its  members,  most  of  them, 
had  been  so  intent  upon  the  business  which  had  brought  them 
there  that  they  had  ignored  his  presence.  Now,  of  course, 
they  turned  to  look  at  him.  There  was  curiosity  in  their 
look  but  by  no  means  enthusiastic  approval.  Miss  Snowden's 
nod  was  decidedly  snippy.  She  looked,  sniffed  and  turned 
again  to  Mrs.  Berry. 

"We  want  your  mother  to  hear  it,"  she  declared.  "We've 
come  here  so  she  shall  hear  it — all  of  it.  If — if  others — 
who  may  not  be  'specially  interested  want  to  hear  they  can, 
I  suppose.  I  don't  know  why  not.  .  .  .  We  haven't  any 
thing  to  hide.  We  ain't  ashamed — are  not,  I  should  say. 
Are  we  ?"  turning  to  those  behind  and  beside  her. 

Mrs.  Brackett  announced  that  she  certainly  should  say 
not,  so  did  several  others.  There  was  a  general  murmur  of 


FAIR    HARBOR  99 


agreement.  Every  one  continued  to  look  at  the  captain.  He 
was  embarrassed. 

"I  think  perhaps  I  had  better  be  goin',"  he  said,  address 
ing  Miss  Berry.  "I  ought  to  be  gettin'  home,  anyway." 

But  the  young  lady  would  not  have  it. 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  said,  earnestly,  "I  hope  you  won't 
go.  Judge  Knowles  told  me  you  were  going  to  call.  I  was 
very  glad  when  I  found  you  had  called  now — at  this  time. 
And  I  should  like  to  have  you  stay.  You  can  stay,  can't 
you  ?" 

Sears  hesitated.  "Why — why,  yes,  I  presume  likely  I  can/' 
he  admitted. 

"And  will  you — please?" 

He  looked  at  her  and  she  at  him.    Then  he  nodded. 

"I'll  stay,"  he  said,  and  sat  down  in  his  chair. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Elizabeth.  "Now,  Elvira  ....  Wait, 
mother,  please." 

Miss  Snowden  sniffed  once  more.  "Now  that  that  im 
portant  matter  is  settled  I  suppose  I  may  be  allowed  to  go 
on,"  she  observed,  with  sarcasm.  "Very  good,  I  will  do  so 
in  spite  of  the  presence  of — of  those  not — ahem — intimately 
concerned.  Mrs.  Berry,  on  behalf  of  this  committee  here,  a 
committee  of  the  whole " 

"No  such  thing,"  this  from  Mrs.  Tidditt.  "I'm  part  of 
the  whole  but  I  ain't  part  of  that  committee.  Stick  to  the 
truth,  Elviry — pays  better." 

"Hush,  Esther,"  begged  Miss  Berry.  "Let  her  go  on, 
please.  Go  on,  Elvira." 

The  head  of  the  committee  breathed  fiercely  through  her 
thin  nostrils.  Then  she  made  another  attempt. 

"I  address  you,  Mrs.  Cordelia  Berry,"  declaimed  Elvira, 
"because  you  are  supposed — I  say  supposed — to  be  offi 
cially  the  managing  director — or  directress,  to  speak  cor 
rect—of  this  institution.  Not,"  she  added,  hastily,  "that  it 
is  an  institution  in  any  sense  of  the  word — like  a  home  or 
any  such  thing.  We  all  know  that,  I  hope  and  trust.  Al 
though,"  with  a  venomous  glance  in  the  direction  of  Mrs. 


TOO  FAIR    HARBOR 


Esther,  "there  appear  to  be  some  that  know  precious  little. 
I  mention  no  names." 

"You  don't  need  to,"  retorted  the  Tidditt  lady  promptly. 
"Never  mind,  I  know  enough  not  to  vote  to  buy  a  lot  of 
second-handed  images  and  critters  just  because  they  belong 
to  one  of  your  relations.  I  know  that  much,  Elviry  Snow- 
den." 

This  was  a  body  blow  and  Elvira  visibly  winced.  For 
just  an  instant  Captain  Sears  thought  she  was  contemplating 
physical  assault  upon  her  enemy.  But  she  recovered  and, 
white  and  scornful,  proceeded. 

"I  shan't  deign  to  answer  such  low — er — insinuations," 
she  declared,  her  voice  shaking.  "I  scorn  them  and  her  that 
makes  them.  I  scorn  them— both.  BOTH!'' 

This  last  "Both"  was  fired  like  a  shot  from  a  "Big 
Bertha."  It  should  have  annihilated  the  irreverent  little 
female  in  the  gingham  gown.  It  did  not,  however;  she 
merely  laughed.  The  effect  of  the  blast  was  still  further 
impaired  by  Mrs.  Chase,  who  although  listening  with  all  her 
ears,  such  as  they  were,  had  evidently  heard  neither  well  nor 
wisely. 

"That's  right,  Elviry,"  proclaimed  Aurora,  "that's  just 
what  I  say.  Why,  the  lion  alone  is  worth  the  money." 

Mrs.  Brackett  touched  the  Snowden  arm.  "Never  mind, 
Elvira,"  she  said.  "Don't  pay  any  attention.  Go  right  ahead 
and  read  the  resolutions." 

Elvira  drew  a  long  breath,  two  long  breaths.  "Thank  you, 
Susanna,"  she  said,  "I  shall.  I'm  going  to.  Mrs.  Berry," 
she  added,  turning  to  that  lady,  who  was  quite  as  much 
agitated  as  any  one  present  and  was  clutching  her  chair  arm 
with  one  hand  and  her  daughter's  arm  with  the  other.  "Mrs. 
Berry,"  repeated  Miss  Snowden,  "this  resolution  drawn  up 
and  signed  by  the  committee  of  the  whole  here  present — 
signed  with  but  one  exception,  I  should  say,  one  trifling 
exception — "  this  with  a  glare  at  Mrs.  Tidditt — "is,  as  I 
said,  addressed  to  you  because  you  are  supposed — "  a  glare 
at  Elizabeth  this  time — "to  be  in  charge  of  the  Fair  Harbor 


FAIR    HARBOR  101 


and   what   goes   on   and   is    done   within   its — er — porticos. 
Ahem !    I  will  now  read  as  follows." 

And  she  proceeded  to  read,  using  both  elocution  and  ges 
tures.  The  resolutions  made  a  rather  formidable  document. 
They  were  addressed  to  "Mrs.  Cordelia  Imogene  Berry, 
widow  of  the  late  Captain  Isaac  Stephens  Berry,  in  charge 
of  the  Fair  Harbor  for  Mariners'  Women  at  Bayport,  Mas 
sachusetts,  United  States  of  America.  Madam:  Where - 
» 

There  were  many  "Whereases."  Captain  Kendrick,  lis 
tening  intently,  found  the  path  of  his  understanding  clogged 
by  them  and  tangled  by  Miss  Elvira's  flowers  of  rhetoric. 
He  gathered,  nevertheless,  that  the  "little  group  of  ladies 
resident  at  the  Fair  Harbor,  having  been  reared  amid  sur 
roundings  of  culture,  art  and  refinement"  were,  naturally, 
desirous  of  improving  their  present  surroundings.  Also  that 
a  "truly  remarkable  opportunity"  had  come  in  their  way  by 
which  the  said  surroundings  might  be  improved  and  beauti 
fied  by  the  expenditure  of  a  nominal  sum,  seventy-five  dol 
lars,  no  more.  With  this  seventy-five  dollars  might  be 
bought  "the  entire  collection  of  lawn  statuary  and  the  foun 
tain  which  adorned  the  grounds  of  the  estate  of  the  late 
lamented  deceased  Captain  Seth  Snowden  at  Harniss  and 
now  the  property  of  his  widow,  namely  to  wit,  Mrs.  Hannah 
Snowden." 

"And  I'll  say  this,"  put  in  Elvira,  before  reading  further, 
"although  hints  and  insinuations  have  been  cast  at  me  in  the 
hearing  of  those  present  to-day  about  my  being  a  relation — 
relative,  that  is — of  Captain  Seth,  and  he  was  my  uncle  on 
my  father's  side,  nevertheless  it's  just  because  I  am  a  rela 
tion — relative — that  we  are  able  to  buy  all  those  elegant 
things  for  as  cheap  a  price  as  seventy-five  dollars  when  they 
cost  at  least  five  hundred  and  ....  But  there!  I  will 
proceed. 

"  'The  said  statuary,  etcetera,  consisting  of  the  following, 
that  is  to  say: 

"'No.  i.  Item  ...  I  Lawn  Fountain.  Hand  painted 
iron.  Representing  two  children  beneath  umbrella.'  " 


102  FAIR    HARBOR 


"And  it's  the  cutest  thing,"  put  in  the  hitherto  silent 
Desire  Peasley,  with  enthusiastic  suddenness.  "There's  them 
two  young  ones  standin'  natural  as  life  under  that  umbrella — 
just  same  as  anybody  would  stand  under  an  umbrella  if 
'twas  rainin'  like  fury — and  the  water  squirts  right  down 
over  top  of  'em  and  drips  off  the  ribs— off  the  ribs  of  the 

umbrella,  I  mean — and  there  they  stand  and — and 

Well,  when  I  see  that  I  says,  'My  glory !'  I  says,  'what'll 
they  contrive  next?'  That's  what  I  said.  All  hands  heard 
me.  .  .  .  What's  that  you're  mutterin',  Esther  Tidditt?" 

"I  wasn't  mutterin',  'special.  I  just  said  I  bet  they  heard 
you  if  they  was  anywheres  'round." 

"Is  that  so?  Do  tell!  Well,  I'll  have  you  to  under 
stand " 

Elvira  and  Miss  Berry  together  intervened  to  calm  this 
new  disturbance.  Then  the  former  went  on  with  the  reading 
of  the  "resolutions." 

"'No.  2.  Item  ...  I  Hand  painted  lion.  Iron.  .  .  .' 
Hush,  Aurora!  .  .  .  Yes,  'lion,'  that's  right.  ...  I  did 
say  'iron.'  It's  an  iron  lion,  isn't  it?  .  .  .  Oh,  do  be  quiet! 
We'll  never  get  through  if  everybody  keeps  interrupting. 
'No.  2.  ...  Item.  .  .  i  Hand  painted  lion  iron' — iron 
lion,  I  mean.  .  .  .  Oh,  my  soul  and  body!  If  everybody 
keeps  talking  I  shan't  know  what  I  mean.  ...  'A  very 
wonderful  piece  of  statuary.  In  perfect  condition.  Paint 
needs  touching  up,  that's  all. 

"  'No.  3 — Item .  .  .  .  I  Deer.  Hand  painted  iron.  Per 
fectly  lovely—'  " 

"Stuff!"  This  from  the  irrepressible  Mrs.  Tidditt,  of 
course.  "One  horn  is  broke  off  and  it  looks  like  the  Old 
Harry.  No,  I'll  take  that  back ;  the  Old  Harry  is  supposed 
to  have  two  horns.  But  that  deer  image  is  a  sight,  just  the 
same.  Why,  it  ain't  got  any  paint  left  on  it." 

"Nonsense!  It  may  need  a  little  paint,  here  and  there, 
but " 

"Humph!  A  little  here  and  a  lot  there  and  a  whole  lot 
more  in  between.  Elvira  Snowden,  that  image  looks  as  if 


FAIR    HARBOR  103 


'twas  struck  with  leprosy,  like  Lazarus  in  the  Bible;  you 
know  it  well  as  I  do." 

Sears  Kendrick  enjoyed  the  reading  of  these  resolutions. 
If  it  were  not  for  certain  elements  in  the  situation  he  would 
have  considered  the  morning's  performance  the  most  amus 
ing  entertainment  he  had  witnessed  afloat  or  ashore.  He 
managed  not  to  laugh  aloud,  although  he  was  obliged  to 
turn  his  head  away  several  times  and  to  cough  at  intervals. 
Once  or  twice  he  and  Elizabeth  Berry  exchanged  glances 
and  the  whimsical  look  of  resignation  and  humorous  appre 
ciation  in  her  eyes  showed  that  she,  too,  was  keenly  aware 
of  the  joke. 

But  at  other  times  she  was  serious  enough  and  it  was  her 
expression  at  these  times  which  prevented  the  captain's 
accepting  the  whole  ridiculous  affair  as  a  hilarious  farce. 
Then  she  looked  deeply  troubled  and  careworn  and  anxious. 
He  began  to  realize  that  this  affair,  funny  as  it  was,  was  but 
one  of  a  series,  a  series  of  annoyances  and  trials  and  petty 
squabbles  which,  taken  in  the  aggregate,  were  anything  but 
funny  to  her.  For  it  was  obvious,  the  truth  of  what  Judah 
Cahoon  had  said  and  Judge  Knowles  intimated,  that  this 
girl,  Elizabeth  Berry,  was  bearing  upon  her  young  shoulders 
the  entire  burden  of  responsibility  for  the  conduct  and  man 
agement  of  affairs  in  the  Fair  Harbor  for  Mariners*  Women 
at  Bayport.  Her  mother  was  supposed  to  bear  this  burden, 
but  it  was  perfectly  obvious  that  Cordelia  Berry  was  incap 
able  of  bearing  any  responsibilities,  including  her  own  per 
sonal  ones. 

Miss  Snowden  solemnly  read  the  concluding  paragraph  of 
the  resolutions.  It  summed  up  those  preceding  it  and  an 
nounced  that  those  whose  names  were  appended,  "being 
guests  at  the  Fair  Harbor,  the  former  home  of  our  beloved 
benefactress  and  friend  Mrs.  Lobelia  Phillips,  nee  Seymour, 
are  unanimously  agreed  that  as  a  simple  matter  of  duty  to 
the  institution  and  those  within  its  gates,  not  to  mention  the 
beautifying  of  Bayport,  the  collection  of  lawn  statuary  and 
fountain  now  adorning  the  estate  of  the  late  deceased  Cap 
tain  Seth  Snowden  be  bought,  purchased  and  obtained  from 


104  FAIR    HARBOR 


that  estate  at  the  very  low  price  of  seventy-five  dollars,  this 
money  to  be  paid  from  the  funds  in  the  Fair  Harbor  treasury, 
and  the  said  statuary  and  fountain  to  be  erected  and  set  up 
on  the  lawns  and  grounds  of  the  Fair  Harbor.  Signed " 

Miss  Elvira  read  the  names  of  the  signers.  They  included, 
as  she  took  pains  to  state,  the  names  of  every  guest  in  the 
Fair  Harbor  with  one — ahem — exception. 

"And  I'm  it,  praise  the  lord,"  announced  Mrs.  Tidditt, 
promptly.  "I  ain't  quite  crazy  yet,  nor  I  ain't  a  niece-in-law 
of  Seth  Snowden's  widow  neither." 

"Esther  Tidditt,  I've  stood  your  hints  and  slanders  long 
enough." 

"Nobody's  payin'  me  no  commissions  for  gettin'  rid  of 
their  old  junk  for  'em." 

"Esther,  be  still !  You  shouldn't  say  such  things.  Elvira, 
stop — stop!"  Miss  Berry  stepped  forward.  Mrs.  Tidditt 
was  bristling  like  a  combative  bantam  and  Elvira  was  shaking 
from  head  to  feet  and  crooking  and  uncrooking  her  fingers. 
"There  mustn't  be  any  more  of  this,"  declared  Elizabeth. 
"Esther,  you  must  apologize.  Stop,  both  of  you,  please. 
Remember,  Cap'n  Kendrick  is  here." 

This  had  the  effect  of  causing  every  one  to  look  at  the 
captain  once  more.  He  felt  unpleasantly  conspicuous,  but 
Elizabeth's  next  speech  transferred  the  general  gaze  from 
him  to  her. 

"There  isn't  any  use  in  saying  much  more  about  this  mat 
ter,  it  seems  to  me,"  she  said.  "It  comes  down  to  this :  You 
and  the  others,  Elvira,  think  we  should  buy  the — the  statues 
and  the  fountain  because  they  would,  you  think,  make  our 
lawns  and  grounds  more  beautiful." 

"We  don't  think  at  all — we  know,"  declared  Elvira.  Mrs. 
Brackett  said,  "Yes  indeed,  we  do,"  and  there  was  a  general 
murmur  of  assent.  Also  a  loud  sniff  from  the  Tidditt 
direction. 

"And  your  mother  thinks  so,  too,"  spoke  up  Miss  Peasley, 
from  the  group.  "She  told  me  herself  she  thought  they  were 
lovely.  Didn't  you,  Cordelia?  You  know  you  did." 

Before  Mrs.  Berry  could  answer — her  embarrassment  and 


FAIR    HARBOR  105 


distress  seemed  to  be  bringing  her  again  to  the  verge  of 
tears — her  daughter  went  on. 

"It  doesn't  make  a  bit  of  difference  what  mother  and  I 
think  about  their — beauty — and  all  that,"  she  said.  "The 
whole  thing  comes  down  to  the  matter  of  whether  or  not  we 
can  afford  to  buy  them.  And  we  simply  cannot.  We  haven't 
the  money  to  spare.  Spending  seventy-five  dollars  for  any 
thing  except  the  running  expenses  of  the  Harbor  is  now 
absolutely  impossible.  I  told  you  that,  Elvira,  when  you 
first  suggested  it." 

Miss  Snowden,  still  trembling,  regarded  her  resentfully. 
"Yes,  you  told  me,"  she  retorted.  "I  know  you  did.  You 
are  alw.ays  telling  us  we  can't  do  this  or  that.  But  why 
should  you  tell  us  ?  That  is  what  we  can't  understand.  You 
ain't — aren't — manager  here,  so  far  as  we  know.  We  never 
heard  of  your  appointment.  We  always  understood  your 
mother  was  the  manager,  duly  appointed.  Isn't  she?" 

"Of  course  she  is,  but " 

"Yes,  and  when  we  have  spoken  to  her — two  or  three  of  us 
at  different  times — she  has  said  she  thought  buying  these 
things  was  a  lovely  idea.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  she 
thought  so  now.  .  .  .  Cordelia,  don't  you  think  the  Fair 
Harbor  ought  to  buy  those  statues  and  that  fountain?" 

This  pointed  appeal,  of  course,  placed  Mrs.  Berry  directly 
in  the  limelight  and  she  wilted  beneath  its  glare.  She  red 
dened  and  then  paled.  Her  fingers  fidgetted  with  the  pin 
at  her  throat.  She  picked  up  her  handkerchief  and  dropped 
it.  She  looked  at  Elvira  and  the  committee  and  then  at  her 
daughter. 

"Why— why,  I  don't  know,"  she  faltered.  "I  think— of 
course  I  think  the — the  statuary  is  very  beautiful.  I — I 
said  so.  I — I  am  always  fond  of  pretty  things.  You  know 
I  am,  Elizabeth,  you " 

"Wait  a  minute,  Cordelia.  Didn't  you  tell  me  you  thought 
the  Fair  Harbor  ought  to  buy  them  ?  Didn't  you  tell  Suzanna 
and  me  just  that  ?" 

Mrs.  Berry  squirmed.  She  did  not  answer  but,  so  far  as 
Sears  Kendrick  was  concerned,  no  answer  was  necessary. 


io6  FAIR    HARBOR 


He  was  as  certain  as  if  she  had  sworn  it  that  she  had  told 
them  just  that  thing.  And,  looking  at  Elizabeth's  face,  he 
could  see  that  she,  too,  was  certain  of  it. 

"Didn't  you,  Cordelia  ?"  persisted  Miss  Snowden. 

"Why — why,  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  I  did,  but — but  what 
difference  does  it  make?  You  heard  what  Elizabeth  said. 
She  says  we  can't  afford  it.  She  always  attends  to  such 
matters,  you  know  she  does." 

"Yes,"  with  sarcastic  emphasis,  "we  do,  but  we  don't  know 
why  she  should.  And  in  this  case  we  aren't  going  to  stand 
it.  You  are  supposed  to  be  managing  this  place,  Cordelia 
Berry,  and  if  you  are  willing  to  turn  your  duties  over  to  a — 
a  mere  child  we  aren't  willing  to  let  you.  Once  more  I  ask 
you " 

Elizabeth  interrupted.  "There,  there,  Elvira,"  she  said, 
"what  is  the  use?  It  isn't  a  question  of  mother's  opinion  or 
what  she  has  said  before.  It  is  just  a  matter  of  money.  We 
can't  afford  it." 

Miss  Snowden  ignored  her.  "We  shall  not,"  she  repeated, 
"permit  our  future  and — and  all  like  that  to  be  ruined  by  the 
whims  of  a  mere  child.  That  is  final." 

She  pronounced  the  last  sentence  with  solemn  emphasis. 
The  pause  which  followed  should  have  been  impressive  but 
Mrs.  Tidditt  spoiled  the  effect. 

"Mere  child!"  she  repeated,  significantly.  "Well,  I  pre 
sume  likely  she  is  a  mere  child  compared  to  some  folks. 
Only  she  just  looks  childish  and  they  act  that  way." 

There  was  another  outburst  of  indignant  exclamations 
from  the  committee.  The  head  of  that  body  turned  to  her 
followers. 

"It  is  quite  evident,"  she  declared,  furiously,  "that  this 
conference  is  going  to  end  just  as  the  others  have.  But 
this  time  we  are  not  going  to  sit  back  and  be  trampled  on. 
There  are  those  higher  up  to  be  appealed  to  and  we  shall 
appeal  to  them.  Come !" 

She  stalked  majestically  to  the  door  and  marched  out  and 
down  the  hall,  the  committee  following  her.  Only  Mrs. 
Tidditt  remained,  and  she  but  for  a  moment. 


FAIR    HARBOR  107 


"They're  goin'  to  the  back  room  to  have  another  meetin'," 
she  whispered.  "If  there's  anything  up  that  amounts  to  any 
thing,  'Lizabeth,  I'll  come  back  and  let  you  know/' 

Elizabeth  did  not  answer,  but  Kendrick  offered  a  sugges 
tion.  "You  don't  belong  to  this  committee,"  he  observed. 
"Perhaps  they  won't  let  you  into  the  meetin'." 

The  eyes  behind  the  steel  spectacles  snapped  sparks.  "I'd 
like  to  see  'em  try  to  keep  me  out,"  declared  Mrs.  Esther, 
and  hurried  after  the  others.  Elizabeth  turned  to  her 
mother. 

"Mother,"  she  said,  earnestly,  "we  must  be  very  firm  in 
this  matter.  We  simply  can't  afford  to  spend  any  money 
just  now  except  for  necessities.  If  they  come  to  you  again 
you  must  tell  them  so.  You  will,  won't  you?" 

And  now  Mrs.  Berry's  agitation  reached  its  climax.  She 
turned  upon  her  daughter. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so,"  she  cried  hysterically,  "I  suppose  so ! 
I  shall  have  to  go  through  another  scene  and  be  spoken  to 
as  if — as  if  I  were  dirt  under  these  women's  feet  instead  of 
being  as  far  above  them  in — in  position  and  education  and 
refinement  as  the  clouds.  Why  can't  I  have  peace — just  a 
little  peace  and  quiet  ?  Why  must  I  always  have  to  undergo 
humiliation  after  humiliation?  I " 

"Mother,  mother,  please  don't " 

But  her  mother  was  beyond  reason. 

"And  you — "  she  went  on,  "you,  my  own  daughter,  why 
must  you  always  take  the  other  side,  and  put  me  in  such 

positions,  and — and  humiliate  me  before — before Oh, 

why  can't  I  die?  I  wish  I  were  dead!  I  do!  I  do!" 

She  burst  into  a  storm  of  hysterical  sobs  and  hurried 
toward  the  door.  Elizabeth  would  have  gone  to  her  but  she 
pushed  her  aside  and  rushed  into  the  front  hall  and  up  the 
stairs.  They  heard  her  sobs  upon  the  upper  landing. 

Sears  Kendrick,  feeling  more  like  an  interloper  than  ever, 
looked  in  embarrassment  at  the  flowered  carpet.  He  did  not 
dare  look  at  the  young  woman  beside  him.  He  had  never 
in  his  life  felt  more  sorry  for  any  one.  Judge  Knowles  had 
said  he  hoped  that  he — Kendrick — might  obtain  a  general 


io8  FAIR    HARBOR 


idea  of  the  condition  of  affairs  in  the  Fair  Harbor.  The 
scenes  he  had  just  witnessed  had  given  him  a  better  idea 
of  that  condition  than  anything  else  could  have  done.  And, 
somehow  or  other,  it  was  the  last  of  those  scenes  which  had 
affected  him  most.  Elizabeth  Berry  had  faced  the  sarcasms 
and  sneers  of  the  committee,  had  never  lost  her  poise  or  her 
temper,  had  never  attempted  to  shift  the  responsibility,  had 
never  reproached  her  mother  for  the  hesitating  weakness 
which  was  at  the  base  of  all  the  trouble.  And,  in  return,  her 
mother  had  accused  her  of — all  sorts  of  things. 

And  yet  when  Elizabeth  spoke  it  was  in  defence  of  that 
mother. 

"I  hope,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  said,  "that  you  won't  mis 
understand  my  mother  or  take  what  she  just  said  too  seri 
ously.  She  is  not  very  well,  and  very  nervous,  and,  as  you 
see,  her  position  here  is  a  trying  one  sometimes." 

The  captain  could  not  keep  back  the  speech  which  was  at 
his  tongue's  end. 

"Your  position  is  rather  tryin',  too,  isn't  it?"  he  observed. 
"It  sort  of  would  seem  that  way — to  me." 

She  smiled  sadly.  "Why,  yes — it  is,"  she  admitted.  "But 
I  am  younger  and — and  perhaps  I  can  bear  it  better." 

It  occurred  to  him  that  the  greatest  pity  of  all  was  the 
fact  that  she  should  be  obliged  to  bear  it.  He  did  not  say 
so,  however,  and  she  went  on,  changing  the  subject  and 
speaking  very  earnestly. 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  said,  "I  am  very  glad  you  heard 
this — this  disagreement  this  morning.  Judge  Knowles  told 
me  you  were  going  to  call  at  the  Harbor  here  and  when  he 
said  it  he — well,  I  thought  he  looked  more  than  he  said,  if 
you  know  what  I  mean.  I  didn't  ask  any  questions  and  he 
said  nothing  more,  but  I  guess  perhaps  he  wanted  you  to — 
to  see — well,  to  see  what  he  wasn't  well  enough  to  see — or 
something  like  that." 

She  paused.  The  captain  was  embarrassed.  He  certainly 
felt  guilty  and  he  also  felt  as  if  he  looked  so. 

"Why — why,  Miss  Berry,"  he  stammered,  "I  hope  you — 
you  mustn't  think " 


FAIR    HARBOR  109 


She  waved  his  protestations  aside. 

"It  doesn't  make  a  bit  of  difference,"  she  said.  "No  mat 
ter  why  you  came  I  am  very  glad  you  did.  This  ridiculous 
statuary  business  is  just  one — well,  symptom,  so  to  speak. 
If  it  wasn't  that,  it  might  be  something  else.  It  comes,  you 
see,  from  my  position  here — which  really  isn't  any  position  at 
all — and  their  position,  Elvira  Snowden's  and  the  rest.  They 
pay  a  certain  sum  to  get  here  in  the  first  place  and  a  small 
sum  each  year.  There  is  the  trouble.  They  think  they  pay 
for  board  and  lodging  and  are  guests.  Of  course  what  they 
pay  amounts  to  almost  nothing,  but  they  don't  realize  that, 
or  don't  want  to,  and  they  expect  to  have  their  own  way. 
Mother  is — well,  she  is  nervous  and  high  strung  and  she 
hates  scenes.  They  take  advantage  of  her,  some  of  them — 
no  doubt  they  don't  consider  it  that,  but  it  seems  to  me  so— 
and  so  I  have  been  obliged  to  take  charge,  in  a  way.  They 
don't  understand  that  and  resent  it.  I  don't  know  that  I 
blame  them  much.  Perhaps  I  should  resent  it  if  I  were  in 
their  place.  Only  ....  But  never  mind  that  now. 

"This  is  only  one  of  a  good  many  differences  of  opinion 
we  have  had,"  she  went  on.  "In  the  old  days — and  not 
older  than  a  year  ago,  for  that  matter — if  the  differences 
were  too  acute  I  used  to  go  to  Judge  Knowles.  He  always 
settled  everything,  finally  and  sensibly.  But  now,  since  he 
has  been  so  sick,  I — well,  I  simply  can't  go  to  him.  He 
has  been  very  kind  to  us,  to  mother  and  me,  and  I  am  very 
fond  of  him.  He  was  a  great  friend  of  my  father's  and  I 
think  he  likes  me  for  father's  sake.  And  now  I  will  not 
trouble  him  in  his  sickness  with  my  troubles — I  will  not." 

She  raised  her  head  as  she  said  it  and  Captain  Sears, 
regarding  her,  was  again  acutely  conscious  of  the  fact  that 
it  was  a  very  fine  head  indeed. 

"I  understand,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  I  knew  you  would.  And  I  know  I  could  fight  this 
out  by  myself.  And  shall,  of  course.  But,  nevertheless,  I 
am  glad  you  were  here  as — well,  as  a  witness,  if  it  ever 
comes  to  that.  You  heard  what  Elvira — Miss  Snowden — 
said  about  appealing  to  those  higher  up.  I  suppose  she 


io  FAIR    HARBOR 


means  Mrs.  Phillips,  the  one  who  founded  the  Harbor.  If 
they  should  write  to  her  I What  is  it,  Esther?" 

Mrs.  Tidditt  had  rushed  into  the  room,  bristling.  She 
waved  her  arms  excitedly. 

"  'Lizbeth,  'Lizbeth,"  she  whispered,  "they're  goin'  to  tell 
him.  They're  makin'  up  the  yarn  now  that  they're  goin' 
to  tell  him." 

"Tell  him?    Tell  who?" 

"Judge  Knowles.  They've  decided  to  go  right  straight 
over  to  the  judge's  house  and — and  do  what  they  call  appeal 
to  him  about  them  images.  Elviry  she's  goin',  and  Susanna, 
and  Desire  Peasley,  too,  for  what  I  know.  What  do  you 
want  me  to  do?  Ain't  there  any  way  I  can  help  stop  'em?" 

For  the  first  time  in  that  distressing  forenoon  Captain 
Kendrick  saw  Miss  Berry's  nerve  shaken.  She  clasped  her 
hands. 

"Oh  dear !"  she  cried.  "Oh,  dear,  that  is  the  very  thing 
they  mustn't  do !  I  wouldn't  have  Judge  Knowles  worried 
or  troubled  about  this  for  the  world.  I  have  kept  everything 

from  him.  He  is  so  ill !  If  those  women  go  to  him  and 

Oh,  but  they  mustn't,  they  mustn't !  I  can't  let  them." 

Mrs.  Tidditt,  diminutive  but  combative,  offered  a  sugges 
tion. 

"Do  you  want  me  to  go  out  and  stop  'em  ?"  she  demanded. 
"I'll  go  and  stand  in  the  kitchen  doorway,  if  you  want  me 
to.  They  won't  get  by  if  I'm  there,  not  in  a  hurry,  anyway." 

"Oh  no,  no,  Esther,  of  course  not." 

"I  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  go  and  tell  Emmeline  not  to 
let  'em  in  the  judge's  house.  She's  my  cousin  and  she'll 
do  what  I  ask — sometimes — if  I  don't  ask  much." 

"No,  that  wouldn't  do  any  good,  any  permanent  good. 
But  they  must  not  go  to  the  judge.  They  must  not.  He  has 
been  so  kind  and  forbearing  and  he  is  so  very  sick.  The 
doctor  told  me  that  he  ....  They  shan't  go.  They  can 
say  anything  they  please  to  me,  but  they  shan't  torment 
him." 

She  started  toward  the  door  through  which  Mrs.  Tidditt 


FAIR    HARBOR  in 


had  entered.  At  the  threshold  she  paused  for  an  instant  and 
turned. 

"Please  excuse  me,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  said.  "I  almost 
forgot  that  you  were  here.  I  think  I  wouldn't  wait  if  I  were 
you.  There  will  be  another  scene  and  I'm  sure  you  have 
had  scenes  enough.  I  have,  too,  but  ....  Oh,  well,  it 
will  be  all  right,  I'm  sure.  Please  don't  wait.  Thank  you 
for  calling." 

She  turned  again  but  the  captain  stopped  her.  As  she 
faced  him  there  in  the  doorway  their  eyes  had  met.  Hers 
were  moist — for  the  first  time  she  was  close  to  the  breaking 
point — and  there  was  a  look  in  them  which  caused  him  to 
forget  everything  except  one,  namely,  that  the  crowd  in  the 
"parrot  cage"  at  the  other  end  of  that  hall  should  not  trouble 
her  further.  It  was  very  seldom  that  Captain  Sears  Ken 
drick,  master  mariner,  acted  solely  on  impulse.  But  he  did 
so  now. 

"Stop,"  he  cried.  "Miss  Elizabeth,  don't  go.  Stay  where 
you  are.  .  .  .  Here — you — "  turning  to  Mrs.  Tidditt. 
"You  go  and  tell  those  folks  I  want  to  see  'em.  Tell  'em 
to  come  aft  here — now." 

There  was  a  different  note  in  his  voice,  a  note  neither 
Elizabeth  nor  the  Tidditt  woman  had  before  heard.  Yet  if 
Judah  Cahoon  had  been  present  he  would  have  recognized  it. 
He  had  heard  it  many  times,  aboard  many  tall  ships,  upon 
many  seas.  It  was  the  captain's  quarter-deck  voice  and  it 
meant  business. 

Mrs.  Tidditt  and  Elizabeth  had  not  heard  it,  and  they 
looked  at  the  speaker  in  surprise.  Captain  Sears  looked  at 
them,  but  not  for  long. 

"Lively,"  he  commanded.  "Do  you  hear?  Go  for'ard  and 
tell  that  crew  in  the  galley,  or  the  fo'castle,  or  wherever  they 
are,  to  lay  aft  here.  I've  got  somethin'  to  say  to  'em." 

It  was  seldom  that  Esther  Tidditt  was  at  a  loss  for  words. 
As  a  usual  thing  her  stock  was  unlimited.  Now  she  merely 
gasped. 

"You — you — "  she  stammered.  "You  want  me  to  ask- 
to  ask  Elviry  and  Susanna  and  them  to  come  in  here  ?" 


112  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Ask?  Who  said  anything  about  askin'?  I  want  you  to 
tell  'em  I  say  for  them  to  come  here.  It's  an  order,  and  you 
can  tell  'em  so,  if  you  want  to." 

Mrs.  Tidditt  gasped  again.  "Well !"  she  exclaimed.  "Well, 
my  good  lordy,  if  this  ain't A-ll  right,  I'll  tell  'em." 

She  hastened  down  the  corridor.  Elizabeth  ventured  a 
faint  protest. 

"But,  Cap'n  Kendrick — "  she  began.    He  stopped  her. 

"It  is  all  right,  Miss  Elizabeth,"  he  said.  "I'm  handlin' 
this  matter  now.  All  you've  got  to  do  is  look  on.  ... 
Well,  are  they  comin'  or  must  I  go  after  'em  ?" 

Apparently  he  had  forgotten  that  his  lameness  made  going 
anywhere  a  slow  proceeding.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  had. 
He  had  forgotten  everything  except  the  business  of  the  mo 
ment  and  the  joy  of  being  once  more  in  supreme  command. 

The  message  borne  by  Mrs.  Tidditt  had,  presumably,  been 
delivered.  The  messenger  had  left  the  dining  room  door 
open  and  through  it  came  a  tremendous  rattle  of  tongues. 
Obviously  the  captain's  order  had  created  a  sensation. 

Elizabeth  listened. 

"Well  ?"  repeated  Sears,  again.    "Are  they  goin'  to  come  ?" 

Miss  Berry  smiled  faintly.  "I  think  they  will  come,"  she 
answered.  "If  they  are  as — as  curious  as  I  am  they  will." 

They  were.  At  any  rate  they  came.  Miss  Snowden,  Mrs. 
Brackett  and  Mrs.  Chase  in  the  lead,  the  others  following. 
Mrs.  Tidditt  brought  up  the  rear,  marshaling  the  stragglers, 
as  it  were. 

Elvira  was,  of  course,  the  spokeswoman.  She  was  the 
incarnation  of  dignified  and  somewhat  resentful  surprise. 

"We  have  been  told,"  she  began,  loftily,  "we  have  been 
told,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  that  you  wished  to  speak  to  us.  We 
can't  imagine  why,  but  we  have  came — come,  I  should  say. 
Do  you  wish  to  speak  to  us?" 

Kendrick  nodded.  "Yes,"  he  said  crisply,  "I  do.  I  want 
to  tell  you  that  you  mustn't  go  to  Judge  Knowles  about 
buyin'  those  iron  statues  of  Cap'n  Seth's  or  about  anything 
else.  He  is  sick  and  mustn't  be  worried.  Miss  Berry  says 
so,  and  I  agree  with  her." 


FAIR    HARBOR  113 


He  paused.  From  the  committee  came  a  gasp,  or  concert 
of  gasps  and  muttered  exclamations,  indicating  astonish 
ment.  Elvira  voiced  the  feeling. 

"You  agree  with  her!"  she  exclaimed.  "You  agree?  Why 
—I  never  did !" 

"Yes.  And  I  agree  with  her,  too,  about  buyin'  those — er 
— lions  and  dogs  and — hogs,  or  whatever  they  are.  I  don't 
say  they  aren't  worth  seventy-five  dollars  or  more — or  less — 
I  don't  know.  But  I  do  say  that,  until  I  have  had  time  to 
look  into  things  aboard  here,  I  don't  want  any  money  spent 
except  for  stores  and  other  necessities.  There  isn't  a  bit  of 
personal  feelin'  in  this,  you  must  understand,  it  is  business, 
that's  all." 

He  paused  once  more,  to  let  this  sink  in.  It  sank,  appar 
ently,  and  when  it  again  came  to  the  surface  an  outburst  of 
incoherent  indignation  came  with  it.  Every  committee- 
woman  said  something,  even  Mrs.  Chase,  although  her  ob 
servations  were  demands  to  know  what  was  being  said  by 
the  rest.  Elizabeth  was  the  only  one  who  remained  silent. 
She  was  gazing,  wide-eyed,  at  the  captain,  and  upon  her 
face  was  a  strange  expression,  an  expression  of  eagerness, 
dawning  understanding,  and — yes,  of  hope. 

Miss  Snowden  was  so  completely  taken  aback  that  she  was 
incapable  of  connected  speech.  Mrs.  Susanna  Brackett, 
however,  was  of  a  temperament  less  easily  upset.  She 
stepped  forward. 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  demanded,  "what  are  you  talkin' 
about  ?  What  right  have  you  got  to  say  how  the  Fair  Har 
bor  money  shall  be  spent?  What  are  you  interferin'  here 
for,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"I'm  not  interferin'.     I'm  taking  charge,  that's  all." 

"Takin'  charge?  .  .  .  My  land  of  love!  .  .  .  Charge 
of  what?" 

"Of  this  craft  here,  this  Fair  Harbor  place.  Judge 
Knowles  offered  me  the  general  management  of  it  three  days 
ago." 

Even  the  Brackett  temperament  was  not  proof  against 
such  a  shock.  Susanna  herself  found  difficulty  in  speaking. 


ii4  FAIR    HARBOR 


"You — you — "  she  sputtered.  "My  soul  to  heavens !  Do 
you  mean Are  you  crazy?" 

"Urn — maybe.  But,  anyhow,  crazy  or  not,  I'm  in  com 
mand  aboard  here  from  now  on.  Miss  Elizabeth  here — and 
her  mother,  of  course — will  be  captain  and  mate,  same  as 
they've  always  been,  but  I'll  be — well,  commodore  or  admiral, 
whichever  you  like  to  call  it.  It's  a  queer  sort  of  a  job  for 
a  man  like  me,"  he  added,  with  a  grim  smile,  "but  it  looks 
as  if  it  was  what  we'd  all  have  to  get  used  to." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence,  absolute  silence,  in  the 
best  parlor  of  the  Fair  Harbor  for  Mariners'  Women.  Then 
that  silence  was  broken. 

"What  is  he  sayin'?"  wailed  Mrs.  Aurora  Chase.  "Elviry 
Snowden,  why  don't  you  tell  me  what  he's  a-sayin'?" 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  bomb  had  burst,  the  debris  had  fallen,  the  smoke 
had  to  some  extent  cleared,  the  committee,  still  inco 
herent  but  by  no  means  speechless,  had  retired  to  the 
dining  room  to  talk  it  over.  Mrs.  Tidditt  had  accompanied 
them;  and  Sears  Kendrick  and  Elizabeth  Berry  were  saying 
good-by  at  the  front  door. 

"Well,"  observed  the  captain,  dubiously,  "I'm  glad  you 
don't  think  I'm  more  than  nine  tenths  idiot.  It's  some  com 
fort  to  know  you  can  see  one  tenth  of  common-sense  in  the 
thing.  It's  more  than  I  can,  and  that's  honest.  I  give  you 
my  word,  Miss  Elizabeth,  when  I  set  sail  from  Judah's  back 
entry  this  mornin'  I  hadn't  any  more  idea  that  I  should 
undertake  the  job  of  handlin'  the  Fair  Harbor  than — well, 
than  that  Snowden  woman  had  of  kissin'  that  little  spitfire 
that  was  flyin'  up  in  her  face  every  minute  or  two  while  she 
was  tryin'  to  read  that  paper.  .  .  .  Ha-ha!  that  was 
awfully  funny."  , 

Elizabeth  smiled.  "It  was,"  she  agreed.  "And  it  looks 
so  much  funnier  to  me  now  than  it  did  then,  thanks  to  you, 
Cap'n  Kendrick.  You  have  taken  a  great  load  off  my  mind." 

"Um — yes,  and  taken  it  on  my  own,  I  shouldn't  wonder. 
I  do  hope  you'll  make  it  clear  to  your  mother  that  all  I 
intend  doin'  is  to  keep  a  sort  of  weather  eye  on  money  mat 
ters,  that's  all.  She  is  to  have  just  the  same  ratin'  aboard 
here  that  she  has  always  had — and  so  will  you,  of  course." 

"But  I  haven't  had  any  real  rating,  you  know.  And  now 
I  will  be  more  of  a  fifth  wheel  than  ever.  You  and  mother 
can  manage  the  Harbor.  You  won't  need  me  at  all.  I  can 
take  a  vacation,  can't  I  ?  Won't  that  be  wonderful !" 

He  looked  at  her  in  unfeigned  alarm. 


ii6  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Here,  here !"  he  exclaimed.  "Lay  to !  Come  up  into  the 
wind!  Don't  talk  that  way,  Miss  Berry,  or  I'll  jump  over 
the  rail  before  I've  really  climbed  aboard  this  craft.  I'm 
countin'  on  you  to  do  three  thirds  of  the  work,  just  as  I 
guess  you've  been  doin'  for  a  good  while.  All  I  shall  be  good 
for — if  anything — is  to  be  a  sort  of  reef  in  the  channel,  as 
you  might  say,  something  for  committees  like  this  one  to  run 
their  bows  on  if  they  get  too  far  off  the  course." 

"And  that  will  be  the  most  useful  thing  any  one  can  do, 
Cap'n  Kendrick.  Oh,  I  shall  thank  Judge  Knowles — in  my 
mind — so  many,  many  times  a  day  for  sending  you  here,  I 
know  I  shall.  I  guessed,  when  he  told  me  you  were  going 
to  call,  that  there  was  something  behind  that  call.  And 
there  was.  What  a  wise  old  dear  he  is,  bless  him." 

"Is  he?  Well  I  wish  I  was  surer  of  the  wisdom  in  trap- 
pin'  me  into  takin'  this  command.  However,  I  have  taken  it, 
so  I'll  have  to  do  the  best  I  can  for  a  while,  anyhow.  After 
wards — well,  probably  I  won't  last  but  a  little  while,  so  we 
won't  worry  about  more  than  that.  And  you'll  have  to 
stand  by  the  wheel,  Miss  Elizabeth.  If  it  hadn't  been  for 
you — I  mean  for  the  way  that  committee  lit  into  you — I 
don't  think  I  should  ever  have  taken  charge." 

"I  know.  And  I  sha'n't  forget.  You  may  count  on  me, 
Cap'n  Kendrick,  for  anything  I  can  do  to  help." 

His  face  brightened.  "Good !"  he  exclaimed.  "That's  as 
good  as  an  insurance  policy  on  the  ship  and  cargo.  With  you 
to  pilot  and  me  to  handle  the  crew  she  ought  to  keep  some 
where  in  deep  water.  .  .  .  Well,  I'll  be  gettin'  back  to  port. 
Judah's  dinner  will  be  gettin'  cold  and  he  won't  like  that. 
And  to-morrow  mornin'  I'll  come  again  and  we'll  have  a  look 
at  the  figures." 

"Yes.  I'll  have  the  books  and  bills  and  everything 
ready.  .  .  .  Oh,  be  careful!  Can't  I  help  you  down  the 
step?" 

He  shook  his  head.  "I  can  navigate  after  a  fashion,"  he 
said,  grimly.  "I  get  along  about  as  graceful  as  a  brick 
sloop  in  a  head  tide,  but,  by  the  Lord  Harry,  I'll  get  along 


FAIR    HARBOR  117 


somehow.  .  .  .  No,  don't,  please.  I'd  rather  you  didn't 
help  me,  if  you  don't  mind." 

Slowly,  painfully,  and  with  infinite  care  he  lowered  him 
self  down  the  step.  On  level  ground  once  more,  leaning 
heavily  on  his  cane,  he  turned  to  her  and  smiled  a  somewhat 
shame- faced  apology. 

"It's  silly,  I  know,"  he  said,  panting  a  little,  "but  I've 
always  been  used  to  doin'  about  as  I  pleased  and  it — some 
how  it  plagues  me  to  think  I  can't  go  it  alone  still.  Just 
stubborn  foolishness." 

She  shook  her  head.  "No,  it  isn't,"  she  said,  quickly. 
"I  understand.  And  I  do  hope  you  will  be  better  soon.  Of 
course  you  will." 

"Will  I?  ...  Well,  maybe.  Good  mornin',  Miss  Berry. 
Be  sure  and  tell  your  mother  she's  to  be  just  as  much  cap'n 
as  she  ever  was." 

He  hobbled  along  the  walk  to  the  gate.  As  he  passed 
beneath  the  sign  he  looked  back.  She  was  still  standing  in 
the  doorway  and  when  he  limped  in  at  the  entrance  of  the 
General  Minot  place  she  was  there  yet,  watching  him. 

He  said  no  word  to  Judah  of  his  acceptance  of  the  post  of 
commander  of  the  Fair  Harbor.  He  felt  that  Judge  Knowles 
should  be  the  first  to  know  of  it  and  that  he,  himself,  should 
be  the  one  to  tell  him.  So,  after  dinner  was  over,  and  Judah 
had  harnessed  the  old  horse  to  go  to  the  Minot  wood  lot  for 
a  load  of  pine  boughs  and  brush  for  kindling,  he  asked  his 
ex-cook  to  take  him  across  to  the  judge's  in  the  wagon, 
leave  him  there,  and  come  for  him  later.  Mr.  Cahoon,  of 
course,  was  delighted  to  be  of  service  but,  of  course  also, 
he  was  tremendously  curious. 

"Hum,"  he  observed,  "goin'  to  see  the  judge  again,  be  you, 
Cap'n  Sears?" 

"Yes." 

"Hum.  .  .  .  Ain't  heard  that  he's  any  sicker,  nor  nothin' 
like  that,  have  you?" 

"No." 

"I  see.   .  .  .     Yus,  yus.   .   .   .     Just  goin' to  make  a — er — 


ii8  FAIR    HARBOR 


sort  of — what  you  might  call  a — er — a  call,  I  presume 
likely." 

"I  shouldn't  wonder." 

"Um-hm.  ...  I  see.  ...  Yus,  yus,  I  see.  .  .  .  Um- 
hm.  .  .  .  Well,  I  suppose  we  might  as  well — er — start 
now  as  any  time,  eh?" 

"Better,  I  should  say,  Judah.  Whenever  you  and  the 
Foam  Flake  are  ready,  I  am." 

The  Foam  Flake  was  the  name  with  which  Judah  had 
rechristened  the  old  horse.  The  animal's  name  up  to  the 
time  of  the  rechristening  had  been  Pet,  but  this,  Mr.  Cahoon 
explained,  he  could  not  stand. 

"  'Whatever  else  he  is,'  says  I  to  young  Minot,  'he  ain't  no 
pet — not  of  mine.  The  only  way  I  ever  feel  like  pettin'  that 
oat  barrel/  I  says,  'is  with  a  rope's  end.'  'Well,  why  don't 
you  give  him  a  new  name?'  says  he.  'What'll  I  call  him?' 
says  I.  'Anything  you  can  think  of,'  he  says.  'By  Henry,' 
says  I.  'I  have  called  him  about  everything  I  can  think  of, 
already.'  Haw,  haw!  That  was  a  pretty  good  one,  wan't 
it,  Cap'n  Sears?" 

"But  where  did  you  get  'Foam  Flake*  from?"  the  captain 
had  wanted  to  know. 

"Oh,  it  just  come  to  me,  as  you  might  say,  same  as  them 
things  do  come  sometimes.  I  was  tellin'  the  Methodist 
minister  about  it  one  day  and  he  said  'twas  a — er — one  of 
them — er — inflammations.  Eh?  Don't  seem  as  if  it  could 
have  been  'inflammation,'  but  'twas  somethin'  like  it." 

"Inspiration,  maybe." 

"That's  the  ticket,  inspiration's  what  'twas.  Well,  I  was 
kind  of  draggin'  a  seine  through  my  head,  so  to  speak,  tryin' 
to  haul  aboard  a  likely  name  for  the  critter,  and  fetchin'  the 
net  in  empty  every  time,  when  one  day  that — er — what-d'ye- 
call-it? — inflammation  landed  on  me.  I'd  piloted  'Pet'  and 
the  truck  wagon  over  to  Harniss — and  worked  my  passage 
every  foot  of  the  way — and  over  there  to  Brett's  store  I 
met  Luther  Wixon,  who  was  home  from  a  v'yage  to  the 
West  Indies.  Lute  and  me  had  been  to  sea  together  half 


FAIR    HARBOR  119 


a  dozen  times,  and  we  got  kind  of  swappin'  yarns  about 
the  vessels  we'd  been  in. 

"  'Have  you  heard  about  the  old  Foam  Flake?'  says  Lute. 
'She  was  wrecked  on  the  Jersey  coast  off  Barnegat,'  he  says, 
'and  now  they've  made  a  barge  out  of  her  hull  and  she's 
freightin'  hay  in  New  York  harbor,'  he  says. 

"Well,  sir,  I  hauled  off  and  fetched  the  broadside  of  my 
leg  a  slap  you  could  have  heard  to  Jericho.  'By  the  creepin', 
jumpinV  says  I.  'I've  got  it!"  'Yes/  he  says,  'you  act  as 
if  you  had.  But  what  do  you  take  for  it?'  'I  wouldn't 
take  a  dollar  note  for  it  right  now,'  I  told  him.  And  I 
wouldn't  have,  nuther.  The  old  Foam  Flake — maybe  you 
remember  her,  Cap'n  Sears — was  the  dumdest,  lop-sidedest, 
crankiest  old  white  tub  of  a  bark  that  ever  carried  sail. 
When  I  was  aboard  of  her  she  wouldn't  steer  fit  to  eat,  al 
ways  wanted  to  go  to  port  when  you  tried  to  put  her  to 
starboard,  walloped  and  slopped  along  awkward  as  a  cow, 
was  the  slowest  thing  afloat,  and  all  she  was  ever  really  fit 
for  was  what  they  are  usin'  her  for  now,  and  that  was  to 
stow  hay  in.  If  that  wan't  that  old  horse  of  Minot's  all 
over  then  I  hope  I'll  never  smoke  a  five-cent  cigar  again. 
'You  ain't  "Pet"  no  more,'  says  I  to  the  critter ;  'your  name's 
"Foam  Flake !"  :  Haw,  haw !  See  now,  don't  you,  Cap'n 
Sears?" 

Foam  Flake  and  the  truck-wagon  landed  the  captain  at 
the  Knowles  gate  and,  a  few  minutes  later,  Kendrick  was, 
rather  shamefacedly,  announcing  to  the  judge  his  accept 
ance  of  the  superintendency  of  the  Fair  Harbor.  The  in 
valid,  as  grimly  sardonic  and  indomitable  as  ever,  chuckled 
between  spasms  of  pain  and  weakness. 

"Good !  Good !"  he  exclaimed.  "I  thought  you  wouldn't 
say  no  if  you  once  saw  how  things  were  over  there.  Con 
gratulations  on  your  good  sense,  Kendrick." 

Sears  shook  his  head.  "Don't  be  any  more  sarcastic  than 
you  can  help,  Judge,"  he  said. 

"No  sarcasm  about  it.  If  you  hadn't  stepped  in  to  help 
that  girl  I  should  have  known  you  didn't  have  any  sense  at 
all.  By  the  way,  I  didn't  praise  her  too  highly  when  we 


120  FAIR    HARBOR 


talked  before,  did  I?     She  is  considerable  of  a  girl,  Eliza 
beth  Berry,  eh,  Cap'n  ?" 

The  captain  nodded. 

"She  is,"  he  admitted.  "And  she  was  so  confoundedly 
plucky,  and  she  stood  up  against  that  crowd  of — of " 

"Mariners'  women.  Yes.  Ho,  ho !  I  should  like  to  have 
been  there." 

"I  am  glad  you  wasn't.  But  when  I  saw  how  she  stood 
up  to  them,  and  then  when  her  mother " 

"Yes.  Um  .  .  .  yes,  I  know.  Isaac  Berry  was  my  friend 
and  his  daughter  is  a  fine  girl.  We'll  remember  that  when 
we  talk  about  the  family,  Kendrick.  .  .  .  Whew!  Well,  I 
feel  better.  With  you  and  Elizabeth  to  handle  matters  over 
there,  Lobelia's  trust  will  be  in  good  hands.  Now  I  can  go 
to  the  cemetery  in  comfort." 

He  chuckled  as  if  the  prospect  was  humorous.  Captain 
Sears  spoke  quickly  and  without  considering  exactly  how 
the  words  sounded. 

"Indeed  you  can't,"  he  protested.  "Judge  Knowles,  I'm 
goin'  to  need  you  about  every  minute  of  every  day  from 
now  on." 

"Nonsense !  You  won't  need  me  but  a  little  while,  fortu 
nately.  And — for  that  little  while,  probably — I  shall  be  here 
and  at  your  disposal.  Come  in  whenever  you  want  to  talk 
matters  over.  If  the  doctor  or  that  damned  housekeeper  try 
to  stop  you,  hit  'em  over  the  head.  Much  obliged  to  you, 
Cap'n  Kendrick.  He,  he !  We'll  give  friend  Egbert  a  shock 
when  he  comes  to  town.  .  .  .  Oh,  he'll  come.  Some  of 
these  days  he'll  come.  Be  ready  for  him,  Kendrick,  be  ready 
for  him." 

That  evening  the  captain  told  Judah  of  his  new  position 
and  Judah's  reception  of  the  news  was  not  encouraging. 
Somehow  Sears  felt  that,  with  the  voice  of  Judah  Cahoon 
was,  in  this  case,  speaking  the  opinion  of  Bayport. 

Judah  had  been  scrubbing  the  frying-pan.  He  dropped  it 
in  the  sink  with  a  tremendous  clatter. 

"No!"  he  shouted.  "You're  jokin',  ain't  you,  Cap'n 
Sears?" 


FAIR    HARBOR  121 


"It's  no  joke,  Judah." 

"My  creepin'  Henry !  You  can't  mean  it.  You  ain't 
really,  honest  to  godfreys,  cal'latin'  to  pilot  that — that  Fair 
Harbor  craft,  be  you  ?" 

"I  am,  Judah.     Wish   me  luck." 

"Wish  you  luck!  Jumpin',  creepin',  crawlin',  hoppin' 

Why,  there  ain't  no  luck  in  it.  That  ain't  no  man's  job, 
Cap'n  Sears.  That's  a  woman's  job,  and  even  a  woman'd 
have  her  hands  full.  Why,  Cap'n,  they'll — that  crew  of — 
of  old  hens  in  there  they'll  pick  your  eyes  out." 

"Oh,  I  guess  not,  Judah.     I've  handled  crews  before." 

"Yes — yes,  you  have — men  crews  aboard  ship.  But  this 
ain't  no  men  crew,  this  is  a  woman  crew.  You  can't  lam 
this  crew  over  the  head  with  no  handspike.  When  one  of 
those  fo'mast  hands  gives  you  back  talk  you  can't  knock  her 
into  the  scuppers.  All  you  can  do  is  just  stand  and  take  it 
and  wait  for  your  chance  to  say  somethin'.  And  you  won't 
git  no  chance.  What  chance'll  you  have  along  with  Elviry 
Snowden  and  Desire  Peasley  and  them?  Talk!  Why, 
jumpin'  Henry,  Cap'n  Sears,  any  one  of  them  Shanghais  in 
there  can  talk  more  in  a  minute  than  the  average  man  could 
in  a  hour.  Any  one  of  'em!  Take  that  Susanna  Brackett 
now.  Oh,  I've  heard  about  her!  She  had  a  half-brother 
one  time.  Where  is  he  now  ?  Ah  ha !  Where  is  he  ?  No 
body  knows,  that's  where  he  is.  Him  and  her  used  to  live 
together.  Folks  that  lived  next  door  used  to  hear  her  tongue 
a-goin'  at  him  all  hours  day  or  night.  Wan't  no  'watch 
and  watch'  in  that  house — no  sir-ee !  She  stood  all  the 
watches.  She " 

"There,  there,  Judah.  I  guess  I  can  stand  the  talk.  If  it 
gets  too  bad  I'll  put  cotton  in  my  ears." 

"Huh!  Cotton!  Cotton  won't  do  no  good.  Have  to 
solder  your  ears  up  like — like  a  leaky  tea-kittle,  if  you 
wanted  to  keep  from  hearin'  Susanna  Brackett's  clack.  Why, 
that  brother  of  hers — Ebenezer  Samuels,  seems  to  me  his 
name  was.  Seems  to  me  they  told  me  that  Susanna's  name 
was  Samuels  afore  she  married  Brackett.  Maybe  twan't 
Samuels.  Seems  to  me,  now  I  think  of  it,  as  if  'twas 


122  FAIR    HARBOR 


Schwartz.  Yet  it  don't  hardly  seem  as  if  it  could  be,  does 
it?  I  guess  likely  I'm  gettin'  him  mixed  with  a  feller  name 
of  Samuel  Schwartz  that  I  knew  on  South  Street  in  New 
York  one  time.  Run  a  pawn  shop,  he  did.  I  remember  that 
Schwartz  'cause  he  used  to  take  stuff,  you  know — er — er — 
same  as  a  Chinaman.  One  of  them  oakum  eaters,  that's 
what  he  was — an  oakum  eater.  Why,  one  time  he " 

Sears  never  did  learn  what  happened  to  Mrs.  Brackett's 
brother.  Judah's  reminiscent  fancy,  once  started,  wandered 
far  and  wide,  and  in  this  case  it  forgot  entirely  to  return 
to  the  missing  Samuels — or  Schwartz.  But  Mr.  Cahoon 
expressed  himself  freely  on  the  subject  of  his  beloved  ex- 
captain  and  present  lodger  taking  charge  of  the  establish 
ment  next  door.  Sears'  explanations  and  excuses  bore  little 
weight.  Time  and  time  again  that  evening  Mr.  Cahoon 
would  come  out  of  a  dismal  reverie  to  exclaim:  "Skipper 
of  the  Fair  Harbor  for  Mariners'  Women!  You!  Cap'n 
Sears  Kendrick,  skipper  of  that  craft !  Don't  seem  possible, 
somehow,  does  it?" 

"Look  here,  Judah,"  the  captain  at  last  said,  in  despera 
tion,  "if  you  feel  so  almighty  bad  about  it,  perhaps  you 
won't  want  me  here.  I  can  move,  you  know." 

Judah  turned  a  horrified  face  in  his  direction.  "Move !" 
he  repeated.  "Don't  talk  so,  Cap'n  Sears.  That's  the  one 
comfort  I  see  in  the  whole  business.  Livin'  right  next  door 
to  'em,  the  way  you  and  me  do,  you  can  always  run  into 
port  here  if  the  weather  gets  too  squally  over  yonder.  Yes, 
sir,  there'll  always  be  a  snug  harbor  under  my  lee  when  the 
Fair  Harbor's  too  rugged.  Eh  ?  Ha,  ha !" 

Just  before  retiring  Sears  said,  "There's  just  one  thing  I 
want  you  to  do,  Judah.  You  may  feel — as  I  know  you  do 
feel — that  my  takin'  this  job  is  a  foolish  thing.  But  don't 
you  let  any  one  else  know  you  feel  that  way." 

Judah  snorted.  "Don't  you  worry,  Cap'n  Sears,"  he  said. 
"If  any  one  of  them  sea  lawyers  down  to  Bassett's  store  gets 
to  heavin'  sass  at  me  about  your  takin'  the  helium  at  the 
Harbor  I'll  shut  their  hatches  for  'em.  I'll  tell  'em  the  old 
judge  and  Lobelia  was  ondecided  between  you  and  Gen'ral 


FAIR    HARBOR  123 


Grant  for  the  job,  but  finally  they  picked  you.  Don't  mis 
take  me  now,  Cap'n.  Your  goin'  over  there  is  the  best  thing 
for  the — the  henroost  that  ever  was  or  ever  will  be.  It's 
you  I'm  thinkin'  about.  It  ain't — well,  by  the  crawlin' 
prophets,  'tain't  the  kind  of  berth  you've  been  used  to.  Now 
is  it,  Cap'n  Sears?" 

Kendrick  smiled,  a  one-sided  smile. 

"Maybe  not,  Judah,"  he  admitted.  "It  is  a  queer  berth, 
but  it's  a  berth,  and,  unless  these  legs  of  mine  get  well  a  lot 
quicker  than  I  think  they  will,  I  may  be  mighty  thankful  to 
have  any  berth  at  all." 

He  told  his  sister  this  when  she  called  to  learn  if  the 
rumor  she  had  heard  was  true.  She  shook  her  head. 

"Perhaps  it  is  all  right,  Sears,"  she  said.  "I  suppose  you 
know  best.  But,  somehow,  I — well,  I  hate  to  think  of  your 
doin'  it." 

"I  know.  You're  proud,  Sarah.  Well,  I  used  to  be  proud 
too,  before  the  ship-chandlery  business  and  the  Old  Colony 
railroad  dismasted  me  and  left  me  high  and  dry." 

She  put  a  hand  on  his  arm.  "Don't,  Sears,"  she  pleaded. 
"You  know  why  I  hate  to  have  you  do  it.  It  don't  seem — 
it  don't  seem — you  know  what  I  mean." 

"A  man's  job.  I  know.  Judah  said  the  same  thing.  I 
took  Judge  Knowles'  offer  because  it  seemed  the  only  way  I 
could  earn  my  salt.  If  I  didn't  take  it  you  and  Joel  might 
have  had  a  poor  relation  to  board  and  lodge.  And  you've 
got  enough  on  your  hands  already,  Sarah." 

She  sighed.  "Of  course  I  knew  that  was  why  you  took 
it,"  she  said. 

Yet,  even  as  he  said  it,  he  realized  that  the  statement  was 
not  the  whole  truth.  The  fifteen  hundred  a  year  salary  had 
tempted  him,  but  if  he  had  not  gone  to  the  Fair  Harbor  on 
that  forenoon  and  seen  Elizabeth  Berry  brave  the  committee 
and  her  mother,  it  is  extremely  doubtful  if  he  would  have 
yielded.  In  all  probability  he  would  have  declined  the  judge's 
offer  and  have  risked  the  prospect  of  the  almost  hopeless 
future,  for  a  time  longer  at  least. 

But,   having  accepted,   he  characteristically   cast   doubts, 


124  FAIR    HARBOR 


misgivings  and  might-have-beens  over  the  side,  as  he  had 
cast  wreckage  over  the  rails  of  his  ships  after  storms,  and, 
while  Bayport  buzzed  with  gossip  and  criticism  and  surmise 
concerning  him,  took  up  his  new  duties  and  went  ahead  with 
them.  The  morning  following  that  of  his  dramatic  scene 
with  the  committee  he  limped  to  the  door  of  the  Fair  Harbor 
and,  for  the  first  time,  entered  that  door  as  general  manager. 

He  anticipated,  and  dreaded,  a  perhaps  painful  and  surely 
embarrassing  scene  with  Mrs.  Berry,  but  was  pleasantly  dis 
appointed.  Elizabeth,  true  to  her  promise,  had  evidently 
broken  the  news  to  her  mother  and,  also,  had  reconciled  the 
matron  to  her  partial  deposing.  Mrs.  Berry  was,  of  course, 
a  trifle  martyrlike,  a  little  aggrieved,  but  on  the  whole 
resigned. 

"I  presume,  Captain  Kendrick,"  she  said,  "that  I  should 
have  expected  something  of  the  sort.  Dear  'Belia  is  abroad 
and  Judge  Knowles  is  ill,  and,  from  what  I  hear,  his  mind 
is  not  what  it  was." 

Sears,  repressing  a  smile,  agreed  that  that  might  be  the 
case. 

"But,  of  course,  Mrs.  Berry,"  he  explained,  "I  did  not 
take  the  position  with  the  least  idea  of  interferin'  with  you. 
You  will  be — er — er — well,  just  what  you  have  been  here, 
you  know.  I've  shipped  to  help  you  and  the  judge  and  Miss 
Elizabeth  in  any  way  I  can,  that's  all." 

With   the   situation   thus   diplomatically    explained    Mrs. 
Berry  brightened,  restored  her  handkerchief  to  her  pocket — 
in  the  '70*5  ladies'  gowns  had  pockets — and  announced  that 
she  was  sure  that  she  and  the  captain  would  get  on  charm 
ingly  together. 

"And,  after  all,  Captain  Kendrick,"  she  gushed,  "a  man's 
advice  is  so  often  so  necessary  in  business,  you  know,  and  all 
that.  Just  as  a  woman's  advice  helps  a  man  at  times.  Why, 
Captain  Berry — my  dear  husband — used  to  say  that  without 
my  advice  he  would  have  been  absolutely  at  sea,  yes,  abso 
lutely." 

According  to  Bayport  gossip,  as  related  by  Judah,  Cap 
tain  Isaac  Berry  had  been,  literally,  during  the  latter  part 


FAIR    HARBOR  125 


of  his  life,  absolutely  at  sea  as  much  as  he  possibly  could. 
"And  mighty  thankful  to  be  there,  too,"  so  Mr.  Cahoon 
was  wont  to  add. 

Elizabeth  heard  a  portion  of  Sears'  interview  with  her 
mother,  but  she  made  no  comment  upon  it,  to  him  at  least. 
When  he  announced  his  intention  of  interviewing  Miss 
Snowden,  however,  she  was  greatly  surprised  and  said  so. 

"You  want  to  speak  with  Elvira,  Cap'n  Kendrick?"  she 
repeated.  "You  do,  really?  Do  you — of  course  I  am  not 
interfering,  please  don't  think  I  am — but  do  you  think  it  a — 
a  wise  thing  to  do,  just  now?" 

The  captain  nodded.  "Why,  yes,  I  do,"  he  said.  "Oh,  it's 
all  right,  Miss  Elizabeth,  I'm  not  goin'  to  start  any  rows. 
You  wouldn't  think  it  to  look  at  me,  probably,  but  I've  got 
an  idea  in  my  head  and  I'm  goin'  to  try  it  out  on  this 
Elvira." 

It  was  some  time  before  he  was  able  to  catch  Miss  Snow- 
den  alone,  but  at  last  he  did  and,  as  it  happened,  in  that  same 
summer-house,  the  Eyrie,  where  he  had  first  seen  her.  The 
interview  began,  on  her  part,  as  frostily  as  a  February  morn 
ing  in  Greenland,  but  ended  like  a  balmy  evening  in  Florida. 
The  day  following  he  laid  his  plans  to  meet  and  speak  with 
Mrs.  Brackett  and  the  militant  Susanna  thereafter  became 
as  peaceful,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  as  a  dovecote  in 
spring.  Elizabeth  Berry,  noticing  these  changes,  and  sur 
mising  their  cause,  regarded  him  with  something  like  awe. 

"Really,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  said,  "I'm  beginning  to  be 
a  little  afraid  of  you.  When  you  first  spoke  of  interviewing 
Elvira  Snowden  alone  I — well,  I  was  strongly  tempted  to 
send  for  the  constable.  I  didn't  know  what  might  happen. 
She  was  saying — so  Esther  Tidditt  told  me — the  most  dread 
ful  things  about  you  and  I  was  frightened  for  your  safety. 
And  Mrs.  Brackett  was  just  as  savage.  And  now — why, 
Elvira  this  very  morning  told  me,  herself,  that  she  considered 
your  taking  the  management  here  a  blessing.  I  believe  she 
did  call  it  a  blessing  in  disguise,  but  that  doesn't  make  any 
real  difference.  And  Susanna — three  days  ago — was  calling 
upon  all  our — guests  here  to  threaten  to  leave  in  a  body,  as 


126  FAIR    HARBOR 


a  protest  against  the  giving  over  of  the  management  of  their 
own  Harbor  to  a — excuse  me — man  like  you.  I  don't  know 
what  she  meant  by  that,  but  it  is  what  she  said.  And 
now " 

"Just  a  minute,  Miss  Elizabeth.  Called  me  a  man,  did  she? 
Well,  comin'  from  her  that's  a  compliment,  in  a  way.  She 
ought  to  know;  she's  the  nearest  thing,  herself,  to  a  man 
that  I've  about  ever  seen  in  skirts.  But  that's  nothin'.  What 
interests  me  is  that  idea  of  all  the  crew  aboard  here  threat- 
enin'  to  leave.  They  could,  I  suppose,  if  they  wanted  to, 
same  as  anybody  aboard  a  ship  could  jump  overboard.  But 
in  both  cases  the  question  would  be  the  same,  wouldn't  it? 
Where  would  they  go  to  after  they  left?" 

Miss  Berry  smiled.  "They  have  no  idea  of  leaving,"  she 
said.  "But  they  like  to  think — or  pretend  to  think — that 
they  could  if  they  wanted  to  and  that  the  Fair  Harbor  would 
go  to  rack  and  ruin  if  they  did.  It  comes,  you  see,  of  their 
paying  that  hundred  dollars  a  year.  That,  to  their  mind — 
and  I  imagine  Mrs.  Phillips  had  it  in  her  mind  too,  when 
she  planned  this  place — prevents  it  being  a  'home'  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  word.  But  Susanna's  threatening  to 
leave  amounts  to  nothing.  What  I  am  so  much  interested  in 
is  to  know  how  you  changed  her  attitude  and  Elvira's  from 
war  to  peace  ?  How  did  you  do  it,  Cap'n  Kendrick  ?" 

The  captain's  left  eyelid  drooped.  He  smiled.  "Well," 
he  said,  slowly,  "I  tell  you.  I've  sailed  in  all  sorts  of 
weather  and  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  when  you're  in 
a  rough  sea  the  first  thing  to  do,  if  you  can,  is  to  smooth  it 
down.  If  you  can't — why,  then  fight  it.  The  best  treatment 
I  know  for  a  rough  sea  is  to  sling  a  barrel  of  oil  over  the 
bows.  It's  surprisin'  what  a  little  bit  of  oil  will  do  to  make 
things  smoother  for  a  vessel.  It's  always  worth  tryin',  any 
way,  and  that's  how  I  felt  in  this  case  of  Elvira  and  Susanna. 
When  I  started  to  beat  up  into  their  neighborhood  I  had  a 
barrel  of  oil  slung  over  both  my  port  and  starboard  bows. 
I  give  you  my  word,  Miss  Elizabeth,  I  was  the  oiliest  craft 
afloat  in  these  waters,  I  do  believe." 


FAIR    HARBOR  127 


His  smile  broadened.  Elizabeth  smiled  too,  but  her  smile 
was  a  bit  uncertain. 

"I — I  think  I  understand  you,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  said. 

"But  I'm  not  quite  sure.  How  did  you Would  you 

mind  being  just  a  little  more  clear?  Won't  you  explain  a 
little  more  fully?" 

"Surely.  Easiest  thing  in  the  world.  Take  Sister  Snow- 
den.  I  cast  anchor  under  her  lee — and  'twas  like  tyin'  up 
to  an  iceberg  at  first.  Ha,  ha ! — and  I  began  by  sayin'  that 
I  had  been  waitin'  for  a  chance  to  speak  with  her  alone. 
There  were  a  few  things  I  wanted  to  explain,  I  said.  I  told 
her  that  of  course  I  realized  she  was  not  like  the  average, 
common  run  of  females  here  in  the  Harbor.  I  knew  that  so 
far  as  brains  and  refinement  and — er — beauty  were  con 
cerned  she  was  far,  far  ahead,  had  all  the  rest  of  'em  hull 
down,  so  to  speak." 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,  you  didn't !" 

"Eh !  Well,  maybe  I  left  out  the  'beauty/  but  otherwise 
than  that  I  told  her  just  that  thing.  The  ice  began  to  melt 
a  little  and  when  I  went  on  to  say  that  I  realized  how  much 
the  success  of  the  Fair  Harbor  depended  on  her  sense  and 
brains  and  so  on  she  was  obliged  to  give  in  that  she  agreed 
with  me.  It  was  what  she  had  thought  all  the  time,  you  see ; 
so  when  I  told  her  I  thought  so  too,  we  began  to  get  on  a 
common  fishin'  ground,  so  to  speak.  And  the  more  I  hinted 
at  how  wonderful  I  thought  she  was  the  smarter  she  began 
to  think  /  was.  It  ended  in  a  sort  of  understandin'  between 
us.  I  am  to  do  the  best  I  can  as  skipper  here  and  she  is 
to  help  along  in  the  fo'castle,  as  you  might  say.  When  I 
need  any  of  her  suggestions  I'm  to  go  and  ask  her  for  'em. 
And  we  aren't  either  of  us  goin'  to  tell  the  rest  of  the  crew — 
or  passengers,  or  whatever  you  call  'em — a  word.  When  she 
and  I  separated  there  was  a  puddle  of  oil  all  around  that 
Eyrie  place,  but  there  wasn't  a  breaker  in  sight.  Ha,  ha! 
Oh,  dear!" 

He  laughed  aloud.  Miss  Berry  laughed,  too,  but  she  still 
seemed  somewhat  puzzled. 


128  FAIR    HARBOR 


"But,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  said,  "you're  not  going  to  ask 
for  her  suggestions,  are  you?" 

"Only  when  I  need  'em.  The  agreement  was  that  I  was 
to  ask  when  I  needed  'em.  I  have  a  pretty  strong  f  eelin'  that 
I  shan't  need  'em  much." 

"But  it  was  her  idea,  the  buying  of  that  ridiculous  statu 
ary." 

"Yes,  I  know.  We  talked  about  that.  I  told  her  that  I 
was  sure  the  iron  menagerie  that  belonged  to  her  uncle,  or 
whoever  it  was,  would  have  made  this  place  look  as  lovely  as 
the  Public  Garden  in  Boston.  I  said  you  and  your  mother 
thought  so,  too,  but  that  the  trouble  was  we  couldn't  afford 
'em  at  present.  If  ever  another  collection  hove  in  sight  that 
we  could  afford,  I'd  let  her  know.  But,  whatever  happened, 
she  must  always  feel  that  I  was  dependin'  on  her.  She  said 
she  was  glad  to  know  that  and  that  I  could  depend  on  her. 
So  it'll  be  fair  weather  in  her  latitude  for  a  while." 

"And  Susanna — Mrs.  Brackett?  What  did  you  say  to 
her?" 

"Oh,  exactly  what  I  said  to  Elvira.  I  can  depend  on  her, 
too,  she  said  so.  And  I  can  have  her  advice — when  I  need  it. 
The  main  thing,  Miss  Elizabeth,  was,  it  seemed  to  me,  to 
smooth  down  the  rough  water  until  I  could  learn  a  little  of 
my  new  job,  at  least  enough  to  be  of  some  help  to  you. 
Because  it  is  plain  enough  that  if  this  Fair  Harbor  is  to 
keep  afloat  and  on  an  even  keel,  you  will  keep  it  so — just 
as  you  have  been  keepin'  it  for  the  last  couple  of  years. ,  I 
called  myself  the  admiral  here  the  other  day,  when  I  was 
talkin'  to  that  committee.  I  realize  that  all  I  really  am,  or 
ever  will  be,  is  a  sort  of  mate  to  you,  Miss  Elizabeth.  And 
a  good  deal  of  a  lubber  even  at  that,  I  am  afraid." 

The  lubber  mate  was,  at  least,  a  diligent  student.  Each 
morning  found  him  hobbling  to  the  door  of  the  Fair  Har 
bor — the  side  door  now,  not  the  stately  and  seldom-used 
front  door — and  in  the  room  which  Cordelia  Berry  called 
her  "study"  he  and  Elizabeth  studied  the  books  and  accounts 
of  the  institution.  These  were  in  good  condition,  surpris 
ingly  good  condition,  and  he  of  course  realized  that  that 


FAIR    HARBOR  129 


condition  was  due  to  the  capability  and  care  of  the  young 
woman  herself.  Mrs.  Berry  professed  a  complete  knowledge 
of  everything  pertaining  to  the  Fair  Harbor,  but  in  reality 
her  knowledge  was  very  superficial.  In  certain  situations 
she  was  of  real  help.  When  callers  came  during  hours  when 
Elizabeth  and  Sears  were  busy  Cordelia  received  and  enter 
tained  them  and  was  in  her  element  while  doing  so.  At 
dinner — on  one  or  two  occasions  the  captain  dined  at  the 
Harbor  instead  of  limping  back  to  Judah's  kitchen — she  pre 
sided  at  the  long  table  and  was  the  very  pattern  of  the  per 
fect  hostess.  A  stranger,  happening  in  by  chance,  might 
have  thought  her  the  owner  of  palaces  and  plantations,  gra 
ciously  dispensing  hospitality  to  those  less  favored.  As  an 
ornament — upon  the  few  occasions  when  the  Fair  Harbor 
required  social  ornamentation — Cordelia  Berry  left  little  to 
be  desired.  But  when  it  came — as  it  usually  did  come — to 
the  plain  duties  of  housekeeping  and  managing,  she  left 
much.  And  that  much  was,  so  Sears  Kendrick  discovered, 
left  to  the  willing  and  able  hands  of  her  daughter. 

As,  under  Elizabeth's  guidance,  Captain  Sears  plodded 
through  the  books  and  accounts,  he  was  increasingly  im 
pressed  with  one  thing,  which  was  how  very  close  to  the 
wind,  to  use  his  own  seafaring  habit  of  thought  and  expres 
sion,  the  Fair  Harbor  for  Mariners'  Women  was  obliged 
to  sail.  The  income  from  the  fifty  thousand  dollar  endow 
ment  fund  was  small,  the  seven  hundred  dollars  paid  yearly 
by  the  guests  helped  but  a  little,  and  expenses,  even  when 
pared  down  as  closely  as  they  had  been,  seemed  large  in 
comparison.  Mrs.  Berry's  salary  as  matron  was  certainly 
not  a  big  one  and  Elizabeth  drew  no  salary  at  all. 

He  spoke  to  her  about  it. 

"Don't  they  pay  you  any  wages  for  all  the  work  you  do 
here?"  he  queried. 

She  shook  her  head.  "Of  course  not,"  she  replied.  "How 
could  they?  Where  would  the  money  come  from?" 

"But — why,  confound  it,  you  run  the  whole  craft.  It 
isn't  fair  that  you  should  do  it  for  nothin'." 


130  FAIR    HARBOR 


"I  do  it  to  help  mother.  Her  salary  as  matron  here  is 
practically  all  she  has.  She  needs  me.  And,  of  course,  the 
Fair  Harbor  is  our  home,  just  as  it  is  Elvira's  and  Esther 
Tidditt's,  and  the  rest." 

He  glanced  at  her  quickly  to  see  if  there  was  any  trace  of 
bitterness  or  resentment  in  her  expression.  He  had  detected 
none  in  her  voice.  But  she  was,  apparently,  not  resentful, 
not  as  resentful  as  he,  for  that  matter. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  and  if  he  had  paused  to  think  he  would 
not  have  said  it,  "it  is  your  home  now,  but  it  isn't  goin'  to 
be  always,  is  it?  You're  not  plannin'  to  stay  here  and  help 
your  mother  for  the  rest  of  your  life?" 

She  did  not  reply  at  once,  when  she  did  the  tone  was  de 
cisive  and  final. 

"I  shall  stay  as  long  as  I  am  needed,"  she  said.  "Here  are 
the  bills  for  the  last  month,  Cap'n  Kendrick." 

That  evening  the  captain  employed  Judah  and  the  Foam 
Flake  to  carry  him  to  and  from  Judge  Knowles'.  The  call 
was  a  very  brief  one.  Sears  had  determined  to  trouble  the 
judge  as  little  as  was  humanly  possible. 

"Judge,"  he  said,  coming  to  the  point  at  once,  "I've  been 
lookin'  over  the  books  and  runnin'  expenses  of  that  Harbor 
place  and  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  see  how  it  can  carry 
another  cent  and  keep  afloat.  As  it  is,  that  Berry  girl  ought 
to  draw  at  least  a  hundred  a  month,  and  she  doesn't  get  a 
penny." 

Knowles  nodded.  "I  know  it,"  he  agreed.  "But  you  say 
yourself  that  the  Fair  Harbor  can't  spare  another  cent. 
How  could  we  pay  her?" 

"I  don't  know.  And  what  I  don't  know  a  whole  lot  more 
is  how  I'm  goin'  to  be  paid  fifteen  hundred  a  year.  Where's 
that  comin'  from ;  can  you  tell  me  ?" 

From  the  bed — the  invalid  was  in  bed  most  of  the  time 
now — came  a  characteristic  chuckle.  "He,  he,  he,"  laughed 
the  judge.  "So  you've  got  on  far  enough  to  wonder  about 
that,  eh?" 

"I  certainly  have.    And  I  want  to  say  right  here  that " 

"Hold    on!      Hold    on,    Kendrick!      Don't    be    a    fool. 


FAIR  HARBOR  131 


And  don't  make,  the  mistake  of  thinkin'  I'm  one,  either.  I 
may  have  let  you  guess  that  the  Fair  Harbor  was  to  pay  your 
salary.  It  isn't  because  it  can't.  I'm  paying  it  and  I'm 
going  to  pay  it — while  I'm  alive  and  after  I'm  dead.  You're 
my  substitute  and  so  long  as  you  keep  that  job  you'll  get 
your  pay.  It's  all  arranged  for,  so  don't  argue." 

"But,  Judge,  why " 

"Shut  up.  I  want  to  do  it  and  I  can  afford  to  do  it.  Let 
a  dead  man  have  a  little  fun,  can't  you.  You'll  earn  your 
money,  I  tell  you.  And  when  that  Egbert  comes  I'll  get  the 
worth  of  mine — dead  or  alive,  I'll  get  it.  Now  go  home  and 
let  me  alone,  I'm  tired." 

But  Sears  still  hesitated. 

"That's  all  right,  Judge,"  he  said.  "You've  got  the  right 
to  spend  your  own  money,  I  presume  likely,  so  I  won't  say 
a  word;  although  I  may  have  my  own  opinion  as  to  your 
judgment  in  spendin'  it.  But  there's  one  more  thing  I  can't 
quite  get  over.  Here  am  I,  about  third  mate's  helper  aboard 
that  Harbor  craft,  bein'  paid  fifteen  hundred  a  year,  and 
that  girl — as  fine,  capable,  sensible — er — er — nice  girl  as  ever 
lived,  I  do  believe— workin'  her  head  off  and  runnin'  the 
whole  ship,  as  you  might  say,  and  bein'  paid  nothin'  at  all. 
It  isn't  right.  It  isn't  square.  I  won't  stand  it.  I'll  heave 
up  my  commission  and  you  pay  her  the  fifteen  hundred. 
She  ea«rns  it." 

Silence.    Then  another  slow  chuckle  from  the  bed. 

"Humph !"  grunted  Judge  Knowles.  "  Tine,  capable, 

sensible,  nice '  Getting  pretty  enthusiastic,  aren't  you, 

Kendrick?  He,  he,  he!" 

Taken  by  surprise,  and  suddenly  aware  that  -he  had  spoken 
very  emphatically,  the  captain  blushed,  and  felt  himself  a 
fool  for  so  doing. 

"Why — f — I — "  he  stammered,  then  laughed,  and  declared 
stoutly,  "I  don't  care  if  I  am.  That  girl  deserves  all  the 
praise  anybody's  got  aboard.  She's  a  wonder,  that's  what 
she  is.  And  she  isn't  bein'  treated  right." 

The  answer  was  of  a  kind  quite  unexpected. 

"Well,"  rasped  the  judge,  "who  said  .she  was?" 


132  FAIR   HARBOR 


"Eh?    What- 


"Who  said  she  was?  Not  I.  Don't  you  suppose  I  know 
what  Elizabeth  Berry  is  worth  to  Lobelia  Seymour's  idiot 
.Shop  over  yonder?  And  what  she  gets — or  doesn't  get? 
And  didn't  I  tell  you  that  her  father  was  my  best  friend? 
Then  ....  Oh,  well !  Kendrick,  you  go  back  to  your 
job.  And  don't  you  fret  about  that  girl.  What  she  doesn't 
get  now  she  ....  Humph !  Clear  out,  and  don't  worry 
me  any  more.  Good  night." 

So  the  "captain  departed.  In  a  way  his  mind  was  more  at 
rest.  He  was  nearer  to  being  reconciled  to  the  fifteen  hun 
dred  a  year  now  that  he  knew  it  was  not  to  come  from  the 
funds  of  the  Fair  Harbor.  Judge  Knowles  was  reputed  to 
be  rich.  If  he  chose  to  pay  a  salary  to  gratify  a  whim — 
why,  let  him.  He,  Kendrick,  would  do  his  best  to  earn  that 
salary.  But,  nevertheless,  he  did  not  intend  to  let  Elizabeth 
Berry  remain  under  any  misapprehension  as  to  where  the 
salary  was  coming  from.  He  would  tell  her  the  next  time 
they  met.  A  new  thought  occurred  to  him.  Why  not  tell 
her  then — that  very  evening?  It  was  not  late,  only  about 
nine  o'clock. 

"Judah,"  he  said,  "I've  got  to  run  in  to  the  Harbor  a 
minute.  Drive  me  around  to  the  side  door,  will  you?  And 
then  wait  there  for  me,  that's  a  good  fellow." 

So,  leaving  the  Foam  Flake  and  its  pilot  to  doze  com 
fortably  in  the  soft  silence  of  the  summer  evening,  Sears — 
after  Judah  had,  as  was  his  custom,  lifted  him  down  from 
the  wagon  seat  and  handed  him  his  cane — plodded  to  the  side 
door  of  the  Harbor  and  knocked.  Mrs.  Brackett  answered 
the  knock. 

"Why,  how  d'ye  do,  Cap'n  Kendrick?"  she  said,  gracious 
ly.  "Come  right  in.  We  wasn't  expectin'  you.  You  don't 
very  often  call  evenin's.  Come  right  in.  I  guess  you  know 
everybody  here." 

He  did,  of  course,  for  the  group  in  the  back  sitting  room 
was  made  up  of  the  regular  guests.  He  shook  hands  with 
them  all,  including  Miss  Snowden,  who  greeted  him  with 
queenly  condescension,  and  little  Mrs.  Tidditt,  who  jerked 


FAIR    HARBOR  133 


his  arm  up  and  down  as  if  it  was  a  pump  handle,  and 
affirmed  that  she  was  glad  to  see  him,  adding,  as  an  after 
thought,  "Even  if  I  did  see  you  afore  to-day." 

"Now  you  are  just  in  time,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  said  Miss 
Elvira.  "We  are  going  to  have  our  usual  little  'sing'  before 
we  go  to  bed.  Desire — ;Miss  Peasley — plays  the  melodeon 
for  us  and  we  sing  a  few  selections,  sacred  selections  usually, 
it  is  our  evening  custom.  Do  join  us,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  We 
should  love  to  have  you." 

The  captain  thanked  them,  but  declined.  He  had  run  in 
only  for  a  moment,  he  said,  a  matter  of  business,  and  must 
not  stop. 

"Besides,  I  shouldn't  be  any  help,"  he  added.  "I  can't 
sing  a  note." 

Miss  Snowden  would  have  uttered  some  genteel  protest, 
but  Mrs.  Tidditt  spoke  first. 

"Humph !  That  won't  make  any  difference,"  she  an 
nounced.  "Neither  can  any  of  the  rest  of  us — not  the  right 
notes." 

Possibly  Elvira,  or  Susanna,  might  have  retorted.  The 
former  looked  as  if  she  were  about  to,  but  Mrs.  Aurora 
Chase  came  forward. 

"And  it  wasn't  more'n  ha'f  past  six  neither,"  she  declared 
with  conviction. 

Just  why  or  when  it  was  half  past  six,  or  what  had  hap 
pened  at  .that  time,  or  what  fragment  of  conversation 
Aurora's  impaired  hearing  had  caught  which  led  her  to 
think  this  happening  was  being  discussed,  the  captain  was 
destined  never  to  learn.  For  at  that  instant  Miss  Berry 
came  into  the  room,  entering  from  the  hall. 

"Who  is  it?"  she  asked.  "Why,  good  evening,  Cap'n 
Kendrick." 

She  was  what  two  thirds  of  Bayport  would  have  called 
"dressed  up."  That  is  to  say,  she  was  wearing  a  simple 
afternoon  gown  instead  of  the  workaday  garb  in  which  he 
had  been  accustomed  to  seeing  her.  It  was  becoming,  even 
at  the  first  glance  .he  was  sure  of  that. 

"Good   evening,   Cap'n   Kendrick,"   she   said,   again.      "I 


134  FAIR    HARBOR 


wasn't  expecting  you  this  evening.    Is  anything  the  matter  ?" 

"Oh  no,  no !  I  just  ran  over  for  a  minute.  I — um — yes, 
that's  all." 

He  scarcely  knew  how  to  explain  his  errand.  He  had 
referred  to  it  as  a  matter  of  business,  but  it  was  scarcely 
that.  And  he  could  not  explain  it  at  all  in  the  presence  of 
the  guests,  each  one  so  obviously  eager  to  have  him  do  so. 

"I  just  ran  in,"  he  repeated.  She  looked  a  little  puzzled, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  that  she  hesitated,  momentarily. 
Then — 

"Won't  you  come  into  the  parlor  ?"  she  asked.  Was  it  the 
captain's  imagination,  or  did  Elvira  and  Susanna  and  Desire 
and  the  rest — except  Aurora,  of  course,  who  had  not  heard — 
cast  significant  looks  at  each  other?  It  seemed  to  him  that 
they  did,  but  why?  A  moment  later  he  understood. 

"Come  right  in,  Cap'n,"  she  urged.  "George  is  here,  but 
you  know  him,  of  course." 

They  had  walked  the- length  of  the  hall  and  were  almost 
at  the  door  when  she  made  this  announcement.  He  paused. 

"George?"  he  repeated. 

"Why,  yes,  George  Kent.  But  that  doesn't  make  a  bit 
of  difference.  Come  in." 

"But,  Miss  Elizabeth,  I  didn't  realize  you  had  company. 
I " 

"No,  no.  Stop,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  George  isn't  company. 
He  is — just  George.  Come  in." 

So  he*  went  in  and  George  Kent,  tall  and  boyish  and  good 
looking,  rose  to  shake  hands.  He  appeared  very  much  at 
home  in  that  parlor,  more  so  than  Sears  Kendrick  did  just 
then.  The  latter  knew  young  Kent  well,  of  course,  had  met 
him  first  at  Sarah  Macomber's  and  had,  during  his  slow 
convalescence  there,  learned  to  like  him.  They  had  not  seen 
much  of  each  other  since  the  captain  became  Judah  Gaboon's 
lodger,  although  Kent  had  dropped  in  once  for  a  short  call. 

But  Sears  had  not  expected  to  find  him  there,  that  evening, 
in  the  best  parlor  of  the  Fair  Harbor.  There  was  every 
reason  why  he  should  have  expected  it.  Judah  had  told 
him  that  George  was  a  regular  visitor  and  had  more  than 


FAIR'    HARBOR  135 


hinted  at  the  reason.  But,  in  the  whirl  of  interest  caused  by 
his  acceptance  of  his  new  position  and  the  added  interest  of 
his  daily  labors  with  Elizabeth,  the  captain  had  forgotten 
about  everything  and  every  one  else,  Kent  included. 

But  there  he  was,  young,  broad-shouldered,  handsome, 
optimistic,  buoyant.  And  there,  too,  was  Elizabeth,  also 
young,  and  pretty  and  gayly  chatty  and  vivacious.  And  there, 
too,  was  he,  Sears  Kendrick,  no  longer  young,  even  in  the 
actual  count  of  years,  and  feeling  at  least  twice  that  count — 
there  he  was,  a  cripple,  a  derelict 

His  call  was  very  brief.  The  contrast  between  himself 
and  those  two  young  people  was  too  great,  and,  to  him,  at 
least,  too  painful.  He  did  not,  of  course,  mention  the  errand 
which  had  brought  him  there.  He  could  tell  Elizabeth  the 
facts  concerning  the  payment  of  his  wages  at  some  other 
time.  He  gave  some  more  or  less  plausible  reason  for  his 
running  in,  and,  at  the  end  of  fifteen  minutes  or  so,  ran  out. 
Kent  shook  hands  with  him  at  parting  and  declared  that  he 
was  going  to  call  at  the  Minot  place  at  an  early  date. 

"We've  all  missed  you  there  at  the  Macombers',  Cap'n," 
he  said.  "Your  sister  says  it  doesn't  seem  like  the  same 
place.  And  I  agree  with  her,  it  doesn't.  I'm  coming  to  see 
you  within  a  day  or  two,  sure.  May  I?" 

Sears  said  of  course  he  might,  and  tried  to  make  his  tone 
cordial,  but  the  attempt  was  not  too  successful.  Elizabeth 
accompanied  him  to  the  side  door.  This  meant  a  return  trip 
through  the  back  sitting  room,  where,  judging  by  the  groans 
of  the  melodeon  and  the  accompanying  vocal  wails,  the 
"sing"  had  been  under  way  for  some  minutes.  But,  when 
Captain  Sears  and  Miss  Berry  entered  the  room,  there  was 
absolute  silence.  Something  had  stopped  the  sing,  had 
stopped  it  completely  and  judging  by  the  facial  expressions 
of  the  majority  of  those  present,  painfully. 

Miss  Snowden  sat  erect  in  her  chair,  frigidly,  icily,  dis 
gustedly  erect.  Beside  her  Mrs.  Brackett  sat,  scorn  and 
mental  nausea  plain  upon  her  countenance.  Every  one 
looked  angry  and  disgusted  except  Mrs.  Chase,  who  was 


136  FAIR    HARBOR 


eagerly  whispering  questions  to  her  next  neighbor,  and  Mrs. 
Tidditt,  who  was  grinning  broadly. 

Elizabeth  looked  in  astonishment  at  the  group. 

"Why,  what  is  it?"  she  asked.    What  is  the  matter?" 

Several  began  speaking,  but  Miss  Elvira  raised  a  silencing 
hand. 

"We  were  having  our  sing,"  she  said.  "I  say  Sve  were! 
We  are  not  now,  because,"  her  eyes  turned  to  and  dwelt 
upon  the  puzzled  face  of  Captain  Sears  Kendrick,  "we  were 
interrupted." 

"Interrupted?"  Elizabeth  repeated  the  word. 

"Interrupted  was  what  I  said.  And  such  interruptions! 
Captain  Kendrick,  I  presume  you  are  not  responsible  for 
the — ahem — manners  of  your — ahem — friend,  or  landlord, 
or  cook,  or  whatever  he  may  be,  but  whoever  is  responsible 
for  them  should  be  ....  But  there,  listen  for  yourself." 

Warned  by  the  raised  Snowden  hand,  every  one,  includ 
ing  the  captain  and  Elizabeth,  listened.  And,  from  the  yard 
without,  so  loud  that  the  words  were  plainly  understandable 
although  the  windows  were  closed  and  locked,  came  the 
voice  of  Judah  Cahoon,  uplifted  in  song. 

"  'Whisky  is  the  life  of  man, 

Whisky,  Johnny! 
Whisky  from  an  old  tin  can, 

Whisky  for  my  Johnny ! 

"  'I  drink  whisky  and  my  wife  drinks  gin, 

Whisky,  Johnny! 
The  way  we  drink  'em  is  a  sin, 

Whisky  for  my  Johnny !' ' 

The  singer  paused,  momentarily,  and  Elvira  spoke. 

"Of  course,"  she  said,  "I  make  no  comment  upon  the  lack 
of  common  politeness  shown  by  interrupting  our  evening 
sing  by  such — ah — noises  as  that.  But  when  one  considers 
the  morals  of  the  person  who  chooses  such  low,  disgrace 
ful " 


FAIR    HARBOR  137 


"  'I  had  a  girl,  her  name  was  Lize, 

Whisky,  Johnny! 
She  put  whisky  in  her  pies, 

Whisky  for  my  Johnny !'  " 

Captain  Sears  hobbled,  as  fast  as  his  weak  legs  would  per 
mit,  to  the  door.  He  flung  it  open. 

"  'Whisky  stole  my  brains  away, 

Whisky,  Johnny! 
Just  one  more  pull  and  then  belay, 

Whisky  for '" 

"Judah!    Judah!" 

"Eh?    Aye,  aye,  Cap'n  Sears.    What  is  it?" 

"Shut  up!" 

"Eh?    Oh!    Aye,  aye,  Cap'n." 

He  swung  his  former  skipper  to  the  seat  of  the  truck- 
wagon.  The  captain  spoke  but  little  during  the  short  trip 
home.  What  he  did  say,  however,  was  to  the  point. 

"Judah,"  he  ordered,  "the  next  time  you  sing  anywhere 
within  speak  in '-trumpet  distance  of  that  Fair  Harbor  place, 
don't  you  dare  sing  anything  but  psalms." 

"Eh?    But  which?" 

"Never  mind.  What  in  everlastin'  blazes  do  you  mean  by 
sittin'  up  aloft  here  and  bellowin'  about — rum  and  women?" 

"Hold  on,  now,  Cap'n  Sears !  Ho-ld  on !  That  wan't  no 
rum  and  woman  song,  that  was  the  old  'Whisky,  Johnny' 
chantey.  Why,  I've  heard  that  song  aboard  your  own  vessels 
mo-ore  times,  Cap'n  Sears.  Why " 

"All  right.  But  don't  let  me  ever  hear  it  sung  near  the 
Fair  Harbor  again.  If  you  must  sing,  when  you're  over 
there  sing — oh,  sing  the  doxology." 

Judah  did  not  speak  for  a  minute  or  two.  Then  he  stirred 
rebelliously. 

"What's  that  ?"  asked  the  captain.  "What  are  you  mumb- 
lin'  about?" 


138  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Eh?  I  wan't  mumblin'.  I  was  just  sayin'  I  didn't  have 
much  time  to  learn  new-fangled  songs,  that's  all.  .  .  . 
Whoa,  you — you  walrus !  Don't  you  know  enough  to  come 
up  into  the  wind  when  you  git  to  your  moorin's?" 

As  his  boarder  took  his  lamp  from  the  kitchen  table,  pre 
paratory  to  going  to  his  room,  Mr.  Cahoon  spoke  again. 

"George  Kent  was  over  there,  wan't  he  ?"  he  observed. 

"Eh?    Oh  ...  yes." 

"Um-hm.  I  cal-lated  he  would  be..  This  is  his  night — 
one  of  'em.  Comes  twice  a  week,  Tuesdays  and  Fridays, 
they  tell  me,  and  then  heaves  in  a  Sunday  every  little  spell, 
for  good  measure.  Gettin'  to  be  kind  of  settled  thing  be 
tween  them  two,  so  all  hands  are  cal'latin'.  .  .  .  Hey? 
Turnin'  in  already,  be  you,  Cap'n?  Well,  good  night." 

Sears  Kendrick  found  it  hard  to  fall  asleep  that  night. 
He  tossed  and  tumbled  and  thought  and  thought  and  thought. 
At  intervals  he  cursed  himself  for  a  fool  and  resolved  tt, 
think  no  more,  along  those  lines  at  least,  but  to  forget  the 
foolishness  and  get  the  rest  he  needed.  And  each  time  he 
was  snatched  back  from  the  brink  of  that  rest  by  a  vision 
of  George  Kent,  tall,  young,  good-looking,  vigorous,  with 
all  the  world,  its  opportunities  and  rewards,  before  him,  and 
of  himself  almost  on  the  verge  of  middle  age,  a  legless, 
worthless,  hopeless  piece  of  wreckage.  He  liked  Kent, 
George  was  a  fine  young  fellow,  he  had  fancied  him  when 
they  first  met.  Every  one  liked  him  and  prophesied  his 
success  in  life  and  in  the  legal  profession.  Then  why  in 
heaven's  name  shouldn't  he  call  twice  a  week  at  the  Fair 
Harbor  if  he  wished  to?  He  should,  of  course.  That  was 
logic,  but  logic  has  so  little  to  do  with  these  matters,  and, 
having  arrived  at  the  logical  conclusion,  Captain  Sears  Ken 
drick  found  himself  still  fiercely  resenting  that  conclusion, 
envying  young  Kent  his  youth  and  his  hopes  and  his  future, 
and  as  stubbornly  rebellious  against  destiny  as  at  the  begin 
ning. 

Nevertheless — and  he  swore  it  more  than  once  before  that 
wretched  night  was  over — no  one  but  he  should  know  of  that 


FAIR    HARBOR  139 


envy  and  rebellion,  least  of  all  the  cause  of  it.  From  then 
on  he  would,  he  vowed,  take  especial  pains  to  be  nice  to 
George  Kent  and  to  help  or  befriend  him  in  every  possible 
way. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IT  was  Kent  himself  who  put  this  vow  to  the  test.  He 
called  at  the  Minot  place  the  very  next  evening.  It 
was  early,  only  seven  o'clock;  Judah,  having  begged 
permission  to  serve  an  early  supper  because  it  was  "lodge 
night,"  had  departed  for  Liberty.  Hall,  where  the  local 
branch  of  the  Odd  Fellows  met;  and  Sears  Kendrick  was 
sitting  on  the  settee  in  the  back  yard,  beneath  the  locust  tree, 
smoking.  Kent  came  swinging  in  at  the  gate  and  again  the 
captain  felt  that  twinge  of  envy  and  rebellion  against  fate  as 
he  saw  the  active  figure  come  striding  toward  him. 

But,  and  doubly  so  because  of  that  very  twinge,  his  wel 
come  was  brimming  with  cordiality.  Kent  explained  that 
his  call  must  be  a  brief  one,  as  he  must  hurry  back  to  his 
room  at  the  Macombers'  to  study.  It  was  part  of  his  agree 
ment  with  Eliphalet  Bassett  that  his  duties  as  bookkeeper  at 
the  latter's  store  should  end  at  six  o'clock  each  night. 

Sears  asked  how  he  was  getting  on  with  his  law  study. 
He  replied  that  he  seemed  to  be  getting  on  pretty  well,  but 
missed  Judge  Knowles'  help  and  advice  very  much  indeed. 

"I  read  with  Lawyer  Bradley  over  at  Harniss  now,"  he 
said.  "Go  over  two  evenings  a  week,  Mondays  and  Thurs 
days.  The  other  evenings — most  of  them — I  put  in  by 
myself,  .digging  away  at  Smith  on  Torts  and  Chitty  on 
Bills,  and  stuff  of  that  kind.  I  suppose*  that  sounds  like 
pretty  dull  music  to  you,  Cap'n  Kendrick." 

The  captain  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  know  about  the 
music  part,"  he  observed.  "It's  a  tune  I  never  could  learn 
to  play — or  sing,  either,  I'm  sure  of  that.  But  you  miss  the 
judge's  help,  do  you?" 

"Miss  it  like  blazes.  He  could  do  more  in  five  minutes 

140 


FAIR    HARBOR  141 


to  make  me  see  a  point  than  Bradley  can  in  an  hour.  Brad- 
ley's  a  pretty  good  lawyer,  as  the  average  run  of  small 
lawyers  go,  but  Judge  Knowles  is  away  above  the  average. 
Bradley  will  hem  and  haw  and  'rather  think'  this  and  'it 
would  seem  as  if  that,  but  the  judge  will  say  a  hundred 
words,  and  two  of  'em  swear  words,  and  there  is  the  answer, 
complete,  plain  and  demonstrated.  I  do  like  Judge  Knowles. 
I  only  hope  he  likes  me  half  as  well." 

They  discussed  the  judge,  his  illness  and  the  pity  of  it. 
This  led  to  a  brief  talk  concerning  Sears'  hurt  and  his  con 
dition.  Kent  seemed  to  consider  the  latter  much  improved. 

"Your  sister  says  so,  too,"  he  declared.  "I  heard  her  tell 
ing  Macomber  yesterday  at  dinner  that  she  thought  you 
looked  and  acted  very  much  more  like  a  well  man  than  when 
you  left  our  house.  And  your  legs  must  be  better,  too, 
Cap'n.  I'm  sure  you  get  around  easier  than  you  did." 

The  captain  shrugged.  "I  get  around,"  he  said,  "but 
that's  about  all  you  can  say.  Whether  I'll  ever  ....  But 
there,  what's  the  use  of  talkin'  about  my  split  timbers?  Tell 
me  some  of  the  Bayport  news.  Now  that  it  seems  to  be 
settled  I'm  goin'  to  tie  up  here  for  a  good  while  I  ought  to 
know  somethin'  about  my  fellow  citizens,  hadn't  I?  What 
is  goin'  on?" 

There  was  not  very  much  going  on,  so  Kent  said.  Cap 
tain  Lorenzo  Taylor's  ship  was  due  in  New  York  almost 
any  week  or  day  now,  and  then  the  captain  would,  of  course, 
come  home  for  a  short  visit.  Mrs.  Captain  Elkanah  Win- 
gate  had  a  new  silk  dress,  and,  as  it  was  the  second  silk 
gown  within  a  year,  there  was  much  talk  at  sewing  circle 
and  at  the  store  concerning  it  and  Captain  Elkanah's  money. 
One  of  Captain  Orrin  Eldridge's  children  was  ill  with  scarlet 
fever.  The  young  people  of  the  Universalist  society  were 
going  to  give  some  amateur  theatricals  at  the  Town  Hall 
some  time  in  August,  and  the  minister  at  the  Orthodox 
meeting-house  had  already  preached  a  sermon  upon  the  sin 
of  theater  going. 

"There,"   concluded    George   Kent,   with   another   laugh. 


142  FAIR    HARBOR 


"That's  about  all  the  local  excitement,  Cap'n.  It  won't  keep 
you  awake  to-night,  I  hope." 

Sears  smiled.  '"Guess  I'll  drop  off  in  spite  of  it,"  he  ob 
served.  "But  it  is  kind  of  interestin',.too,  some  of  it.  Hope 
Cap'n  Lorenzo  makes  a  good  voyage  home.  He's  in  the 
Belle  of  the  Ocean,  isn't  he?  Um-hm.  Well,  she's  a  good 
able  vessel  and  Lorenzo's  a  great,  hand  to  carry  sail,  so,  give 
him  good  weather,  he'll  bring  her  home  flyin'.  So  the  Uni- 
versalists  have  been  behavin'  scandalous,  have  they?  Dear, 
dear!  But  what  can  you  expect  of  folks  so  wicked  they 
don't  believe  in  hell  ?  Humph !  I  mustn't  talk  that  way"  I 
forgot  that  you  were  a  Universalist  yourself,  George."* 

Kent  smiled.  "Oh,  I'm  as  wicked  as  anybody  you  can 
think  of,"  he  declared.  "Why,  I'm  going  to  take  a'  part  in 
those  amateur  theatricals,  myself." 

"Are  you  ?  My,  my !  You'll  be  goin'  to  dancin'-school 
next,  and  then  you  will  be  bound  for  that  place  you  don't 
believe  in.  When  is  this  show  of  yours  comin'  off?  I'd  like 
to  see  it,  and  shall,  if  Judah  and  the  Foam  Flake  will  under 
take  to  get  me  to  the  Town  Hall  and  back." 

"I  think  we'll  give  it  the  second  week  in  August.  We 
had  a  great  argument  trying  to  pick  a  play.  For  a  long 
time  we  were  undecided  between  'Sylvia's  Soldier'  or  'Down 
by  the  Sea*  or  'Among  the  Breakers/  At  last  we  decided 
on  'Down  by  the  Sea/  It's  quite  new,  been  out  only  four  or 
five  years,  and  it  rather  fits  our  company.  Did  you  ever 
see  it,  Cap'n?" 

"No,  I  never  did.  I've  been  out  on  the  sea  so  much  in 
my  life  that  when  I  got  ashore  I  generally  picked  out  the 
shows  that  hadn't  anything  to  do  with  it — 'Hamlet,'  or 
'Lydia  Thompson's  British  Blondes,'  or  somethin'  like  that," 
with  a  wink.  Then  he  added,  more  soberly,  "The  old  salt 
water  looks  mighty  good  to  me  now,  though.  Strange  how 
you  don't  want  a  thing  you  can  have  and  long  for  it  when 
you  can't.  .  .  .  But  I'm  not  supposed  to  preach  a  sermon, 
at  least  I  haven't  heard  anybody  ask  me  to.  What's  your 
part  in  this — what  d'ye  call  it? — 'Out  on  the  Beach,' 
George?" 


FAIR    HARBOR  143 


"  'Down  by  the  Sea.'  Oh,  I'm  'March  Gale,'  and  when  I 
was  a  baby  I  was  cast  ashore  from  a  wreck." 

"Humph!  When  you  were  a  baby.  Started  your  sea- 
farin'  early,  I  should  say.  Who  else  is  in  it?" 

"Oh,  Frank  Crosby,  he  is  'Sept  Gale,'  my  brother — only 
he  isn't  my  brother.  And  John  Carleton — the  schoolteacher, 
you  know — he  is  'Raymond,'  the  city  man ;  he's  good,  too. 
And  Sam  Ryder,  and  Erastus  Snow.  There  was  one  part — 
'John  Gale,'  an  old  fisherman  chap,  we  couldn't  seem  to 
think  of  any  one  who  could,  or  would,  play  it.  But  at  last 
we  did,  and  who  do  you  think  it  was  ?  Joel  Macomber,  your 
sister's  husband." 

"What?  Joel  Macomber — on  the  stage!  Oh,  come  now, 
George !" 

"It's  a  fact.  And  he's  good,  too.  Some  one  told  one  of 
us  that  Macomber  had  done  some  amateur  acting  when  he 
was  young,  and,  in  desperation,  we  asked  him  to  try  this 
part.  And  he  is  good.  You  would  be  surprised,  Cap'n 
Kendrick." 

"Um-hm,  I  am  now.  I  certainly  am.  What  sort  of  a 
part  is  it  Joel's  got  ?  What  does  this — er — Gale  do ;  any 
thing  but  blow  ?" 

"Why — why,  he  doesn't  really  do  much,  that's  a  fact.  He 
is  supposed  to  be  a  fisherman,  as  I  said,  but — well,  about  all 
he  does  in  the  play  is  to  come  on  and  off  and  talk  a  good 
deal,  and  scold  at  Frank  and  me — his  sons,  you  know — and 
fuss  at  his  wife  and " 

Captain  Sears  held  up  his  hand. 

"That's  enough,  George,"  he  interrupted.  "That'll  do. 
Don't  do  much*  of  anything,  talks  a  lot,  and  finds  fault  with 
other  folks.  No  wonder  Joel  Macomber  can  act  that  part. 
He  ougjit  to  be  as  natural  as*  life  in  it.  Aren't  there  any 
women-folks  in  this  play,  though?  I  don't  see  how  much 
could  happen  without  them  aboard." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course  .there  are  women.  Three  of  them. 
Mrs.  Cora  Bassett,  Eliphalet's'  brother's  wife,  she  is  'Mrs. 
Gale,'  my  mother,  only  she'  turns  out  not  to  be ;  and  Fannie 


144  FAIR    HARBOR 


Wingate,  she  is  the  rich  city  girl;  and  Elizabeth.  That 
makes  the  three." 

"Yes,  yes,  so  it  does.  But  which  Elizabeth  are  you  talkin' 
about?" 

"Why,  Elizabeth  Berry.  My — our  Elizabeth,  over  here  at 
the. Fair  Harbor." 

The  quick  change  from  "my"  to  "our"  was  so  quick  as 
to  be  almost  imperceptible,  but  the  captain  noticed  it.  He 
looked  up  and  Kent,  catching  his  eye,  colored  slightly.  Sears 
noticed  the  color,  also,  but  his  tone,  when  he  spoke,  was 
quite  casual. 

"Oh,"  he  said.  "So  Elizabeth's  in  it,  too,  is  she?  Well, 
well !  What  part  does  she  take  ?" 

"She's  'Kitty  Gale/  my  sweetheart." 

"You  don't  say.    She's  good,  I'll  bet." 

"Wonderful!"  Kent's  enthusiasm  was  unrestrained. 
"You  wouldn't  believe  any  untrained  girl  could  act  as  she 
does.  She  might  have  been  born  for  the  part,  honestly  she 
might." 

"Um-hm.   .   .  .     Well,  maybe  she  was." 

"Eh  ?    I  beg  your  pardon." 

"Nothin',  nothin'.  I'll  have  to  see  that  play,  even  if  the 
Foam  Flake  founders  and  Judah  has  to  carry  me  there  pig- 
back.  And  how  are  you  gettin'  on  in  it  yourself?  You 
haven't  told  me  that." 

"Oh,  I'm  doing  well  enough.  Trying  hard,  at  least.  But, 
Cap'n  Sears,  you  should  see  Elizabeth.  She  is  splendid. 
But  she  is  a  wonderful  girl,  anyway.  Don't  you  think  she 
is?" 

"Yes." 

"You  couldn't  help  thinking  so.  No  one  could.  Why " 

The  remainder  of  the  conversation  was,  for  the  most  part, 
a  chant,  sung  as  a  solo  by  George  Kent,  and  having  as  its 
subject,  the  wonders  of  Miss  Berry.  Captain  Sears  joined 
occasionally  in  the  chorus,  and  smiled  cordial  and  complete 
agreement.  His  caller  was  charmed. 

"I've  had  a  bully  good  time,  Cap'n,"  he  declared,  at  part 
ing.  "I  came  intending  to  stay  only  a  few  minutes  and  I've 


FAIR    HARBOR  145 


been  here  an  hour  and  a  half.  You  are  one  of  the  most 
interesting  talkers  I  ever  heard  in  my  life,  if  you  don't  mind 
my  saying  so." 

Sears,  whose  contributions  to  the  latter  half  of  the  con 
versation  had  been  about  one  word  in  twenty,  laughed.  "I'm 
afraid  you  haven't  heard  many  good  talkers,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  have.  But  there  are  precious  few  of  them  in 
this  town.  It  does  a  fellow  good  to  know  a  man  like  you, 
who  has  been  everywhere  and  met  so  many  people  and  done 
so  many  things  worth  while.  And,  you  and  I  agree  so  on 
almost  every  point.  I  don't  know  whether  you  noticed  it  or 
not,  but  our  opinions  seemed  so  exactly  alike.  It's  remark 
able,  I  think.  I  like  you,  Cap'n  Kendrick ;  you  don't  mind 
my  saying  so,  do  you  ?" 

"Oh,  not  a  bit,  not  a  bit.    Glad  of  it,  of  course." 

"Yes.  I  liked  you  down  there  at  your  sister's,  but  you 
were  so  sick  I  didn't  have  the  chance  to  know  you  as  well 
as  I  wanted  to.  But  I  had  seen  enough  of  you  to  know  I 
should  like  you  a  lot  when  I  knew  you  better.  And  Eliza 
beth,  she  was  sure  I  would." 

"Oh,  she  was,  eh?" 

"Yes.  Oh,  yes.  She  likes  you  very  much.  We  talk  about 
you  almost  every  time  I  call — I  mean  when  we  are  together, 
you  know.  Well,  good-by.  I'm  coming  for  another  talk — 
and  soon,  too.  May  I?" 

"Hope  you  do,  son.  Come  aboard  any  day.  The  gang 
plank  is  always  down  for  you." 

Which  was  all  right,  except  that  as  Sears  watched  his 
caller  swinging  buoyantly  to  the  gate,  the  same  unreasonable 
twinge  came  back  to  him,  bringing  with  it  the  keen  sense 
of  depression  and  discouragement,  the  realization  of  his 
approaching  middle  age  and  his  crippled  condition.  It  did 
not  last  long,  he  would  not  permit  it  to  linger,  but  it  was 
acute  while  it  lasted. 

He  heard  a  great  deal  concerning  the  approaching  produc 
tion  of  "Down  by  the  Sea"  as  the  weeks  passed  and  the  time 
for  that  production  drew  nearer.  As  he  and  Elizabeth 
worked  and  took  counsel  together  concerning  the  affairs  of 


146  FAIR    HARBOR 


the  Fair  Harbor  they  spoke  of  it.  She  was  enjoying  the 
rehearsals  hugely  and  the  captain  gathered  that  they  furn 
ished  the  opportunity  for  change  of  thought  and  relaxation 
which  she  had  greatly  needed.  They  spoke  of  George  Kent, 
also ;  Sears  saw  to  that.  He  brought  the  young  man's  name 
into  their  conversation  at  frequent  intervals  and  took  pains 
to  praise  him  highly  and  to  declare  repeatedly  his  liking  for 
him.  All  part  of  his  own  self-imposed  penance,  of  course. 
And  Elizabeth  seemed  to  enjoy  these  conversations  and 
agreed  with  him  that  George  was  "a  nice  boy"  and  likely 
to  succeed  in  life. 

"I'm  so  glad  you  like  him,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  said. 
"He  likes  you  so  much  and  is  so  sure  that  you  are  a  wise 
man." 

Sears  turned  to  look  at  her. 

"Sure  that  I'm  what?"  he  demanded. 

"A  wise  man.  He  says  that,  next  to  Judge  Knowles,  he 
had  rather  have  your  opinion  than  any  one  else  in  Bayport." 

The  captain  shook  his  head.  "Dear,  dear!"  he  sighed. 
"And  just  as  I  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  George  was 
so  smart.  Me  a  wise  man?  Me!  Tut,  tut!  George,  you 
disappoint  me." 

But  she  would  not  be  turned  aside  in  that  way. 

"There  is  no  reason  for  disappointment  that  I  can  see," 
she  said.  "I  think  he  is  quite  right.  You  are  a  wise  man, 
Cap'n  Kendrick.  Of  course  I  know  you  must  be  or  Judge 
Knowles  would  not  have  selected  you  to  take  charge  here. 
But  since  you  and  I  have  been  working  together  I  have 
found  it  out  for  myself.  In  fact  I  don't  see  how  we  ever 
got  along — mother  and  I — before  you  came.  And  we  didn't 
get  on  very  well,  that  is  a  fact,"  she  added,  with  a  rueful 
smile. 

"Rubbish!  You  got  on  wonderfully.  And  as  for  the 
worth  of  my  opinions — well,  you  ask  Northern  Lights  what 
she  thinks  of  'em.  She'll  tell  you,  I'll  bet." 

"Northern  Lights"  was  Captain  Sears's  pet  name  for  Mrs. 
Aurora  Chase.  Elizabeth  asked  why  Aurora  should  hold  his 
opinions  lightly.  The  captain  chuckled. 


FAIR    HARBOR  147 


"Well,"  he  explained,  "she  asked  me  yesterday  what  I 
thought  of  the  Orthodox  minister's  sermons  about  the  Uni- 
versalist  folks  play-actin'.  I  said  I  hadn't  heard  'em  first 
hand,  but  that  I  understood  they  were  hot.  I  thought  she 
sailed  off  with  her  nose  pretty  well  aloft,  but  I  couldn't  see 
why.  To-day  Esther  Tidditt  told  me  that  she  had  under 
stood  me  to  say  the  sermons  were  'rot.'  That's  what  comes 
of  bein'  hard  of  hearin'.  Ho,  ho !  But  truth  will  out,  won't 
it?" 

The  afternoon  preceding  the  evening  when  "Down  by  the 
Sea"  was  to  be  publicly  presented  upon  the  stage  of  the 
town  hall  was  overcast  and  cloudy.  Judah,  with  one  eye 
upon  the  barometer  swinging  in  its  gimbals  in  the  General 
Minot  front  entry,  had  gloomily  prophesied  rain.  Captain 
Sears,  although  inwardly  agreeing  with  the  prophecy,  out 
wardly  maintained  an  obstinate  optimism. 

"I  don't  care  if  the  glass  is  down  so  low  that  the  mercury 
sticks  out  of  the  bottom  and  hits  the  deck,"  he  declared. 
"It  isn't  goin'  to  rain  to-night,  Judah.  You  mark  my  words." 

"I'm  a-markin'  Jem,  Cap'n  Sears.     I'm  a-markin'  of  'em. 
But  what's  the  use  of  words  alongside  of  a  fallin'  glass 
like  that  ?    And,  besides,  ain't  I  been  watchin'  the  sky  all  the 
afternoon  ?    Look  how  it's  smurrin'  up  over  to  the  west'ard. 
Look  at  them  mare's  tails  streakin'  out  up  aloft. 
'Mack'rel  skies  and  mares'  tails 
Make  lofty  ships  to  douse  their  sails.' 
You  know  that's  well's  I  do,  Cap'n  Sears." 

"Yes,  yes,  so  I  do,  Judah.     But  do  you  know  this  one? 
'Hi,  diddle,  diddle, 
The  cat  and  the  fiddle, 
The  cow  jumped  over  the  moon/ 
What  have  you  got  to  say  to  that,  eh?" 

Judah  stared  at  him.     His  chin  quivered. 

"Wh— wh— "  he  stammered.  "What  have  I  got  to  say  to 
that?  Why,  I  ain't  got  nawthin'  to  say  to  it.  There  ain't 
no  sense  to  it.  That's  Mother  Goose  talk,  that's  all  that  is, 
What's  that  got  to  do  with  the  weather  ?" 


148  FAIR    HARBOR 


"It  would  have  somethin'  to  do  with  it  if  a  cow  jumped 
over  the  moon,  wouldn't  it?" 

"Eh?  But Oh,  creepin'  prophets,  Cap'n  Sears, 

what's  the  use  of  you  and  me  wastin'  our  breath  over  such 
foolishness?  You're  just  bein'  funny,  that's  all."  His  ex 
pression  changed,  and  he  smiled  broadly.  "Why,  by  Henry," 
he  declared,  "I  ain't  heard  you  talk  that  way  afore  since  you 
shipped  aboard  this  General  Minot  craft  along  of  me.  That's 
the  way  you  used  to  poke  fun  at  me  aboard  the  old  Wild 
Ranger  when  we  was  makin'  port  after  a  good  v'yage. 
What's  happened  to  spruce  you  up  so  ?  Doctor  ain't  told  you 
any  special  good  news  about  them  legs  of  yours,  has  he, 
Cap'n?  Limpin'  Moses,  I  wisht  that  was  it." 

Sears  shook  his  head.  "No,  Judah,"  he  replied.  "No 
such  luck  as  that.  It's  just  my  natural  foolishness,  I  guess. 
And  I'm  goin'  to  the  theater  to-night,  too,  all  by  myself. 
Think  of  it.  Do  you  wonder  I  feel  like  a  boy  in  his  first 
pair  of  long  trousers?" 

Mr.  Gaboon's  whisker-framed  face  expressed  doubt  and 
foreboding.  "I  ain't  sure  yit  that  I'm  doin'  right  in  lettin' 
you  pilot  yourself  down  to  that  town  hall,"  he  declared.  "It 
ain't  that  I'm  scart  of  the  horse  runnin'  away,  or  nothin'  like 
that,  you  understand,  but " 

His  lodger  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter. 

"Runnin'  away !"  he  repeated.  "Judah,  foam  flakes  drift 
away  pretty  often  and  sometimes  they  blow  away,  but  I 
never  saw  one  run  away  yet.  And  if  this  Foam  Flake  of 
yours  ever  started  to  run  I  should  die  of  surprise  before 
anything  else  could  happen  to  me.  Don't  worry  about  me. 
You'll  be  here  to  help  me  aboard  the  buggy,  when  I'm  ready 
to  leave  port,  and  there'll  be  plenty  of  folks  at  the  hall  to 
help  me  out  of  it  when  I  get  there.  So  I'll  be  all  right  and  to 
spare." 

"Um — well,  maybe  so.  But  it  seems  to  me  like  takin' 
risks  just  the  same.  Now,  Cap'n  Sears,  why  don't  you  let 
me  drive  you  down,  same  as  I  always  do  drive  you?  What 
makes  you  so  sot  on  goin'  alone  ?" 

The  captain  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.    Then  he  said, 


FAIR    HARBOR  149 


"Judah,  for  a  good  many  long  weeks — yes,  and  months — 
I've  been  havin'  somebody  drive  me  or  steer  me  or  order  me. 
To-night,  by  the  Lord  A'mighty,  I'm  goin'  to  drive  and  give 
my  own  orders." 

"But  the  doctor " 

"The  doctor  doesn't  know.  And  if  you  tell  him  I'll — 
well,  you'll  need  him,  that's  all.  Every  dog  has  its  day, 
Judah,  and  this  is  my  night." 

"But  it's  goin'  to  rain  and " 

"It  isn't  ....  And,  if  it  does,  haven't  you  and  I  seen 
enough  water  not  to  be  afraid  of  it?" 

"Salt  water — yes;  but " 

"There  aren't  any  buts.    That'll  do,  Judah.    Go  for'ard." 

So  Mr.  Cahoon,  obeying  orders,  went  for'ard ;  that  is,  he 
went  into  the  kitchen,  and  Sears  Kendrick  was  left  upon  the 
seat  beneath  the  locust  tree  to  smoke  and  cast  rebellious 
glances  at  the  deepening  gloom  of  the  sky.  He  had  not  been 
entirely  truthful  in  his  replies  to  his  landlord's  questions. 
Although  he  scarcely  dared  admit  it,  even  to  himself,  his 
damaged  legs  were  better  than  they  had  been.  Doctor 
Sheldon  told  him  that  they  were  and  seemed  more  hopeful 
after  each  examination.  And  he  knew  that  the  doctor's 
hope  was  not  mere  pretending,  something  assumed  but  not 
felt.  Yes,  he  knew  it.  And,  for  the  first  time  since  the 
accident  which  wrecked  the  Old  Colony  train  and  his  own 
life,  he  began  to  think  that,  perhaps — some  day,  perhaps — 
he  might  again  be  a  man,  a  whole,  able-bodied  man  among 
men.  When  he  submitted  this  thought  to  the  cold  light  of 
reason,  it  was  transparent  and  faint  enough,  but  it  was  there, 
and  it  was  one  cause  of  his  high  spirits. 

And  there  was  another,  a  cause  which  was  even  less 
worthy  of  reason — which  was  perfectly  childish  and  absurd 
but  not  the  less  real  on  that  account.  It  was  connected  with 
his  stubborn  determination  to  be  his  own  pilot  to  the  hall 
that  evening.  He  had,  when  he  first  determined  to  risk  the 
trip  in  that  way,  refused  to  permit  Judah  to  accompany  him 
because  he  knew,  if  he  did,  that  the  latter  would  be  a  sort  of 
safety  valve,  a  life  preserver — to  mix  similes — the  real 


ISO  FAIR    HARBOR 


driver  who  would  be  on  hand  to  take  charge  if  necessary. 
Under  such  circumstances  his  own  responsibility  ceased  to 
be  a  responsibility  and  his  self-reliance  nil.  No,  sink  or 
swim,  survive  or  perish,  he  would  make  the  voyage  alone. 

So,  although  there  was  plenty  of  room  on  the  buggy  seat, 
he  stubbornly  refused  to  permit  Judah  to  sit  there.  Mr. 
Cahoon  was  going  to  the  play,  of  course — the  entire  con 
stabulary  force  of  Ostable  County  could  not  have  prevented 
his  doing  so — but  he  was  to  walk,  not  ride  behind  the  Foam 
Flake.  And  Captain  Sears  Kendrick  was  supposed  to  be 
riding  alone. 

Yet  he  was  not  to  ride  alone,  although  only  one  person, 
and  that  not  Judah  Cahoon,  knew  of  that  fact.  The  day 
before,  while  he  and  Miss  Berry  were  busy,  as  usual,  with 
the  finances  and  managerial  duties  of  the  Fair  Harbor,  she 
had  happened  to  mention  that  there  were  some  stage  prop 
erties,  bits  of  costumes,  and  the  like,  which  must  be  gotten 
early  to  the  hall  on  the  evening  of  the  performance  and  he 
had  offered  to  have  Judah  deliver  them  for  her.  Now  he 
told  her  of  his  intention  of  driving  the  Foam  Flake  un 
assisted  and  that  he  would  deliver  them  himself. 

"Or  any  other  light  dunnage  you  might  want  taken  down 
there,"  he  added.  "Glad  to,  no  trouble  at  all." 

She  looked  at  him  rather  oddly  he  thought. 

"You  are  going  all  alone  ?"  she  asked. 

"Um-hm.  All  alone.  I'm  goin'  to  have  my  own  way  this 
time  in  spite  of  the  Old  Harry — and  the  doctor — and 
Judah." 

"And  you  are  sure  there  will  be  plenty  of  room?" 

"What  ?  With  only  me  in  the  buggy  ?  Yes,  indeed.  Room 
enough  for  two  sea  chests  and  a  pork  barrel,  as  old  Cap'n 
Bangs  Paine  used  to  say  when  I  sailed  with  him.  Room  and 
to  spare." 

"Room  enough  for — me?" 

"For  you  ?    Why,  do  you  mean " 

"I  mean  that  if  there  is  room  I  should  like  to  ride  down 
with  you  very  much.  I  want  to  get  to  the  hall  early  and  I 
have  these  things  to  carry.  Mother  and  the  rest  of  the  Har- 


FAIR    HARBOR  151 


bor  people  are  going  later,  of  course.   .   .   .     So,  if  you  are 
sure  that  I  and  my  bundles  won't  be  nuisances " 

He  was  sure,  emphatically  and  enthusiastically  sure.  But 
his  surprise  was  great  and  he  voiced  it  involuntarily. 

"I  supposed,  of  course,"  he  said,  "that  your  passage  was 
booked  long  ago.  I  supposed  George  had  attended  to  that." 

Her  answer  was  brief,  but  there  was  an  air  of  finality 
about  it  which  headed  off  further  questions. 

"I  am  not  going  with  him,"  she  said. 

So  this  was  his  second  cause  for  good  spirits,  the  fact  that 
Elizabeth  Berry  was  to  ride  with  him  to  the  hall  that  evening. 
It  was  a  very  slight  inconsequential  reason  surely,  but  some 
how  he  found  it  sufficient.  She  was  going  with  him  merely 
because  he  and  the  Foam  Flake  and  the  buggy  furnished  the 
most  convenient  method  of  transportation  for  her  and  her 
packages,  but  she  was  going — and  she  was  not  going  with 
George  Kent.  There  was  a  certain  wicked  pleasure  in  the 
last  thought.  He  was  ashamed  of  it,  but  the  pleasure  was 
there  in  spite  of  the  shame.  Kent  had  so  much  that  he  had 
not,  but  here  was  one  little  grain  of  advantage  to  enter  upon 
the  Kendrick  side  of  the  ledger ;  Elizabeth  Berry  was  not 
going  to  the  town  hall  with  Kent,  but  with  him. 

He  made  but  one  protest  and  that  only  because  his  con 
science  goaded  him  into  making  it. 

"I  don't  know  as  I  ought  to  let  you,  Miss  Elizabeth,"  he 
said.  "I'm  takin'  a  chance,  I  suppose,  that  perhaps  you 
shouldn't  take.  This  is  my  first  voyage  under  my  own  com 
mand  since  I  ran  on  the  rocks.  I  may  strike  another  reef, 
you  can't  tell." 

She  looked  at  him  and  smiled. 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  she  said. 

So,  in  spite  of  the  gathering  clouds  and  the  falling  barom 
eter,  Captain  Sears  was  cheerful  as  he  smoked  beneath  the 
locust  tree.  After  a  time  he  rose  and  limped  down  to  the 
gate.  Doctor  Sheldon's  equipage  was  standing  by  the 
Knowles  hitching  post  just  beyond  across  the  road.  The 
doctor  himself  came  out  of  the  house  and  the  captain  hailed 
him. 


152  FAIR    HARBOR 


"How  is  the  judge?"  he  asked.  Doctor  Sheldon  shook 
his  head. 

"No  better,"  he  replied.  "He  is  weaker  every  day  and 
last  week  he  had  an  attack  that  was  so  severe  I  was  afraid 
it  was  the  end.  He  weathered  it,  though." 

"Why,  yes.  I  saw  him  on  Sunday  and  he  was  as  full  of 
jokes  and  spunk  as  ever,  seemed  to  me.  His  voice  wasn't 
quite  as  strong,  that's  all.  He  is  a  great  man,  Judge 
Knowles.  Bayport  will  miss  him  tremendously  when  he 
goes.  So  shall  I,  for  that  matter,  and  I  haven't  known  him 
very  long." 

"We'll  all  miss  him." 

"There  isn't  a  chance,  I  suppose?    In  the  long  run — — " 

The  doctor's  look  caused  him  to  stop  the  sentence  in  the 
middle. 

"There  isn't  any  question  of  lorig  runs,"  said  Sheldon, 
gravely.  "The  next  one  of  these  seizures  will  end  it.  He 
has  been  a  great  fighter  and  he  never  gives  up ;  that  is  why 
he  is  here.  But  the  fight  is  practically  over.  The  next 
attack  will  be  the  last." 

Sears  was  deeply  concerned.  "Dear,  dear,"  he  said.  "I 
didn't  realize  it  was  quite  so  bad.  And  that  attack  may 
come — next  month,  or  even  next  week,  I  presume  likely?" 

"Yes." 

The  captain's  good  spirits  were  dashed  for  the  time.  His 
regard  and  admiration  for  the  old  judge  had  grown  steadily 
during  their  brief  acquaintance.  He  pictured  the  rugged, 
determined  face  as  he  had  seen  it  Sunday,  and  heard  again 
the  voice,  weak  but  drily  humorous  or  indomitably  pug 
nacious.  It  did  not  seem  as  if  a  spirit  like  that  could  be  so 
near  surrender.  Doctor  Sheldon  must  be  over  apprehensive. 

It  was  but  seven  o'clock  when  he  drove  the  Foam  Flake 
up  to  the  side  door  of  the  Fair  Harbor  and  his  passenger 
stowed  her  various  bundles  about  his  feet  in  the  bottom  of 
the  buggy  and  then  climbed  in  herself.  The  drive  to  the 
town  hall  was  made  in  good  time,  the  Foam  Flake  consid 
ered,  and — to  the  captain  at  any  rate — it  was  a  most  pleasant 


FAIR    HARBOR  153 


excursion.  There  was  the  unaccustomed  sensation  of  once 
more  being  free  from  orders  or  domination. 

There  was  little  conversation  during  the  drive.  Sears 
attempted  it,  but  his  passenger  was  not  talkative.  She 
seemed  to  be  thinking  of  something  else  and  her  answers 
were  brief  and  absent-minded.  Nevertheless  Sears  Kendrick 
enjoyed  their  drive  and  was  almost  sorry  when  the  Foam 
Flake  halted,  snorting,  or  sneezing,  violently,  by  the  hall 
platform.  The  building  was  as  yet  but  dimly  lighted  and 
Asaph  Tidditt,  the  janitor,  was  the  only  person  about. 
Asaph,  hearing  the  Foam  Flake's  sneeze,  came  to  the  door. 

"Well,  I  swan!"  he  exclaimed.  "Is  that  you,  'Liz'beth? 
You're  good  and  early,  ain't  you?  Evenin',  George.  Why, 
'tain't  George.  Who  is  it?  Well,  well,  well,  Cap'n  Sears, 
this  is  a  surprise !" 

lie  helped  the  captain  from  the  buggy  and,  at  Sears' 
request,  Jed  the  Foam  Flake  around  the  corner  to  the  hitch 
ing  rail.  When  he  returned  Miss  Berry  had  gone  .upstairs 
to  the  dressing-room  to  leave  her  packages.  Asaph  was 
still  surprised. 

"Mighty  glad  to  see  you  out  again,  Cap'n,"  4ie  declared. 
"I  heard  you  was  better,  but  I  didn't  hardly  cal'late  to  see 
you  takin'  your  girl  to  ride  so  soon.  Hey  ?  He,  he,  he !" 

Sears  4aughed  long  enough  to  seem  polite.  Asaph  laughed 
longer. 

"And  'tain't  your  girl  you're  takin'  nuther,  is  it  ?"  he  said. 
"When  I  looked  in  that  buggy  just  now  I  don't  know  when 
I've  been  more  sot  -back.  'Evenin',  George,'  says  I.  And 
'twan't  George  Kent  at  all,  'twas  you.  Ain't  been  to  work 
and  cut  George  out,  have  you,  Cap'n  Sears?  He, .lie,  he! 
That's  another  good  one,  ain't  it!" 

The  captain  smiled— more  politeness — and  inquired  if  he 
and  Miss  Berry  were  the  first  ones  at  the  hall. 

"Is  any  one  else  here?"  he  asked. 

"Yus,"  said  Mr.  Tidditt. 

"Who?" 

"Me.  He,  he,  -he !  Kind  of  caught  you  that  time,  didn't 
I,  Cap'n?  Wasn't  expectin'  that,  was  you?  Except  me,  you 


I54  FAIR    HARBOR 


and  'Liz'beth's  the  fust  ones.  Be  plenty  more  in  half  an 
hour,  though.  'Bout  all  hands  in  Bayport's  comin'  to  this 
time,  everybody  but  the  Orthodox  and  the  Methodists  and 
the  Come-Outers.  They  cal'late  goin'  to  a  play-actin'  time 
is  same  as  goin'  to  Tophet.  I  tell  'em  I'd  ruther  go  to  the 
show,  'cause  I'd  have  a  little  fun  out  of  it,  and  from  what 
I  hear  there  ain't  muth  fun  in  t'other  place.  He,  he,  he! 
But  say,  -how'd  it  happen  George  Kent  ever  let  'Liz'beth 
Berry  go  "anywheres  without  him?  Where  is  George?" 

Sears  was  rather  glad  when  the  arrival  of  Sam  Ryder  and 
Carleton,  two  other  .members  of  the  cast  of  "Down  by  the 
Sea"  attracted  the  attention  of  the  garrulous  Asoph  and  led 
the  latter,  in  their  company,  ^upstairs.  A  moment  or  so 
later  another  figure  approached  from  the  blackness  to  the 
circle  of  light  cast  «by  the  big  ship's  lantern  over  the  hall 
door. 

"Why,  hello,  George!"  hailed  Sears. 

Young  Kent  looked  up,  recognized  the  speaker  and  said 
"Good  evening."  He  did  not  seem  surprised  as  Mr.  Tidditt 
had  been  to  find  the  captain  there.  The  latter  remarked 
upon  it. 

"Why,  George,"  he  observed,  "I  must  say  you  take  my 
bein'  here  all  alone  pretty  calmly.  Ase  Tidditt  all  but  cap 
sized  when  he  saw  me  bring  the  Foam1  Flake  into  dock." 

Kent  nodded.  "I  knew  you  were  here,"  he  said.  "Eliza 
beth  came  down  with  you,  I  suppose." 

"Why,  yes.  Did  she  tell  you  she  was  goin'  to  risk  life 
and  limb  aboard  my  vessel  ?" 

"No,"  briefly. 

"Oh.    Then  how  did  you  know  ?" 

"I  stopped  at  the  -Harbor.  Her  mother  said  she  had  gone 
with  you ....  Where  is  she ;  upstairs  ?" 

"Up  in  the  dressin'  room,  I  guess.  She  had  to  come  so 
early  because  there  were  things  to  bring  and  some  work 
for  her  to  do  before  you  and  the  others  got  here,  she  said." 

"What?    Did  she  say  -before  /  got  here?" 

"Eh?  Why,  no,  didn't  mention  you  in  particular.  She 
iust  said " 


FAIR    HARBOR  155 


Kent  interrupted.  "I  see,"  he  said,  shortly.  "All  right, 
never  mind." 

He  was  walking  toward  the  other  end  of  the  platform. 
His  manner  was  so  very  peculiar  that  Sears  could  not  help 
noticing  it.  He  looked  after  him  in  perplexity. 

"Here  .   .   .  George !"  he  called. 

Kent  turned  and  came  back,  rather  reluctantly  it  seemed. 
The  older  man  looked  at  him  keenly. 

"George,"  he  asked,  "what's  the  matter  with  you?" 

"Matter?     With  me?" 

"Yes,  with  you.  You're  short  as  Aunt  Nabby's  pie  crust. 
Have  I  done  anything  you  don't  like?  If  I  have  I'll  apolo 
gize  before  I  know  what  it  is.  It  wasn't  done  on  purpose, 
you  can  be  sure  of  that." 

Kent  started,  colored,  and  was  much  perturbed.  "I  didn't 
realize  I  was  short,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  he  declared.  "I  beg 
your  pardon.  I  am  mighty  sorry.  No — no,  of  course  you 
haven't  done  anything  I  don't  like.  I  don't  believe  you 
could." 

"You  never  can  tell.  But  so  far  I  haven't  tried.  Not 
sick,  are  you?" 

"No  .  .  .  I'm  just — oh,  nothing.  I'm  in  a  little  trouble, 
that's  all.  My  own  fault,  maybe,  I  don't  know." 

"Probably  it  is.  Most  of  our  troubles  are  our  own  fault, 
in  one  way  or  another.  Well,  if  there's  anything  I  can  do 
to  help  out,  just  give  me  a  hail." 

"Thanks.     But  I'm  afraid  there  isn't." 

He  turned  and  walked  down  the  platform  once  more. 
Mrs.  Captain  Orrin  Eldridge,  who  was  to  sell  tickets,  came, 
and,  after  greeting  the  captain  cordially,  went  in  to  open 
and  light  the  ticket-office  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  Two 
more  members  of  the  cast,  Erastus  Snow  and  Mrs.  Bassett, 
arrived  and  went  up  to  prepare.  Suddenly  Kent,  who  had 
t>een  standing  at  the  farther  end  of  the  platform,  came  back. 

"Captain  Kendrick,"  he  said,  "would  you  mind  answering 
a  question?" 

"Eh?  Why,  not  a  bit,  George.  But  perhaps  yours  may 
be  one  of  those  questions  I  can't  answer." 


156  FAIR    HARBOR 


"I  think  you  can.     Say — er — Cap'n  Kendrick " 

"Yes,  George." 

"You  see,  I  ...  This  sounds  awfully  foolish,  but — but 
I  don't  know,  what  I  ought  to  do." 

"Um-hm.  Well,  a  good  many  of  us  get  that  way  every 
once  in  a  while." 

"Do  you?" 

"You  bet!" 

"Humph!  Somehow  you  seem  to  me  like  a  man  who 
would  know  exactly  what  to  do  at  any  time." 

"Yes?  Well,  my  -looks  must  belie  me.  Heave  ahead, 
George.  The  folks  are  beginning  to  come." 

"Well,  I r-  Oh,  hang  it,  Cap'n,  when  you've  made  a 

mistake — done  something  that  you  didn't  think  was  wrong — 
that  wasn't  wrong,  really — andean  d  .  .  .  Say,  I'm  making 
an  awful  mess  of  this.  And  it's  such  a  fool  thing,  anyhow." 

"Um-hm.  So  many  things  are.  Chuck  it  overboard, 
George ;  that  is,  if  you  really  want  to  ask  me  about  it." 

"I  do.  That  is,  I  want  to  ask  you  this :  Suppose  you  had 
done  something  that  you  thought  was  all  right  and — and 
somebody  else  had  thought  was  wrong — would  you — would 
you  go  and  tell  that  other  person  that  you  were  wrong? 
Even  if  you  weren't,  you  know." 

Kendrick  was  silent.  The  question  was  ridiculous  enough, 
but  he  did  not  laugh,  nor  feel  like  laughing.  Nor  did  he 
want  to  answer. 

"Oh,  I  know  that  it's  a  child's  question,"  put  in  Kent,  dis 
gustedly.  "Never  mind  answering.  I  am  a  child  some 
times,  feel  like  one,  anyhow.  And  I've  got  to  fight  this 
out  with  myself,-  I  suppose,  so  what's  the  use?" 

He  turned  on  his  heel,  but  the  captain  laid  a  hand  on  his 
shoulder. 

"George,"  he  said,  slowly,  "of  course,  the  way  you  put 
this  thing  makes  it  pretty  foggy  navigatin'  for  a  stranger; 
but — hump'h ! — well,  in  cases  somethin'  like  yours,  when  I've 
cared  anything  about  the — er — friendship  of  the  other  fel 
low,  I've  generally  found  'twas  good  business  to  go  and  say 
I  was  sorry  first,  and  then,  if  'twas  worth  while,  argue  the 


FAIR   HARBOR  157 


point  of  who  was  right  or  wrong  later.  You  never  can  do 
much  fishin'  through  the  ice  unless  somebody  chops  the  hole." 

The  young  man  was  silent.  He  seemed  to  be  reflecting 
and  to  find  his  reflections  not  too  pleasant.  Before  they 
were  at  an  end  the  first  group  of  townspeople  came  up  the 
steps.  Some  of  them  paused  to  greet  .Kendrick  and  at  their 
heels  was  another  group.  The  captain  was  chatting  with 
them  when  he  heard  Kent's  voice  at  his  ear. 

"Excuse  me,  Cap'n,"  he  whispered.  "I'll  see  you  by  and 
by.  I'm  going  to  chop  the  ice." 

"Eh?  ...     Oh,  all  right,  George.    Good  luck." 

George  hurried  up  the  stairs.  A  minute  or  two  later 
Captain  Sears  slowly  limped  after  him  and  sought  a  secluded 
corner  on  one  of  the  settees  at  the  rear  of  the  hall.  There 
was  still  a  full  half  hour  before  the  rising  of  the  curtain, 
and  as  yet  there  was  but  a  handful  of  people  present.  He 
turned  his  face  away  from  the  handful  and  hoped  that  he 
might  not  be  recognized.  He  did  not  feel  like  talking.  His 
good  spirits  had  left  him.  He  was  blue  and  despondent 
and  discouraged.  And  for  no  reason — that  was  the  worst 
of  it — no  earthly,  sensible,  worth  while  reason  at  all. 

Those  two  children — that  is  what  they  were,  children — 
had  quarreled  and  that  was  why  Elizabeth  had  asked  to  ride 
to  the  hall  with  him  that  evening.  It  was  not  because  she 
cared  for  his  company ;  of  course  he  knew  that  all  the  time, 
or  would  have  known  it  if  he  permitted  himself  to  reason. 
She  had  gone  with  him  because  she  had  quarreled  with 
George.  And  that  young  idiot's  conscience  had  troubled 
him  and,  thanks  to  his  own — Kendrick's — advice,  he  had 
gone  to  her  now  to  beg  pardon  and  make  up.  And  they 
would  make  up.  Children,  both  of  them. 

And  they  ought  to  make  up ;  they  should,  of  course.  He 
wanted  them  to  do  so.  What  sort  of  a  yellow  dog  in  the 
manger  would  he  be  if  he  did  not?  He  liked  them  both, 
and  they  were  young  and  well — and  he  was — what  that  rail 
way  accident  had  made  of  him. 

The  audience  poured  in,  the  settees  filled,  the  little  boys 
down  in  front  kicked  the  rounds,  and  pinched  each  other 


158  FAIR    HARBOR 


and  giggled.  Mr.  Asaph  Tidditt  importantly  strode  down 
the  aisle  and  turned  up  the  wicks  of  the  kerosene  foot- 
lamps.  Mrs.  Sophronia  Eldridge,  Captain  Orrin's  sister-in- 
law,  seated  herself  at  the  piano  and  played  the  accompani 
ments  while  Mrs.  Mary  Pashy  Foster  imparted  the  infor 
mation  that  she  could  not  sing  the  old  songs  now.  When 
she  had  finished,  most  people  were  inclined  to  believe  her. 
The  delegation  from  the  Fair  Harbor,  led  by  Mrs.  Berry 
and  Elvira  Snowden,  arrived  in  a  body.  The  Universalist 
minister  and  his  wife  came,  and  looked  remarkably  calm  for 
a  couple  leading  a  flock  of  fellow  humans  to  perdition.  Cap 
tain  Elkanah  Wingate  and  Mrs.  Wingate  came  last  of  all 
and  marched  majestically  to  the  seats  reserved  for  them  by 
the  obsequious  Mr.  Tidditt.  The  hall  lights  were  dimmed. 
The  curtain  rose.  And  George  Kent,  very  handsome  and 
manly  as  "March  Gale,"  was  seen  and  heard,  singing: 

"Oh,  my  name  was  Captain  Kidd 
As  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed." 

And  these  were  the  opening  lines  of  the  play,  "Down  by 
the  Sea." 

That  performance  was  a  great  success,  everybody  said  so. 
Mr.  Tidditt  expressed  the  general  opinion  when  he  declared 
that  all  hands  done  about  as  fine  as  the  rest  but  some  of  'em 
done  finer.  John  Carleton,  the  schoolteacher,  shone  with 
particular  brilliancy  as  he  delivered  himself  of  such  natural, 
everyday  speeches  as :  "I  have  dispatched  a  messenger  to 
town  with  the  glad  tidings,"  or  "We  will  leave  this  barren 
spot  and  hie  to  the  gay  scenes  of  city  life."  And  Frank 
Crosby,  as  "September  Gale,"  the  noble  young  fisherman, 
tossed  the  English  language  about  as  a  real  gale  might  toss 
what  he  would  have  called  "a  cockle  shell,"  as  he  declared, 
"With  a  true  heart  and  a  stout  arm,  who  cares  for  danger? 
...  To  be  upon  the  sea  when  the  winds  are  roaring  and 
the  waves  are  seething  in  anger;  ...  to  have  a  light  bark 
obedient  to  your  command,  braving  the  fury  of  the  tem 
pest  .  .  ."  Bayport  was  fairly  well  acquainted  with  fisher- 


FAIR    HARBOR  159 


men,  numbering  at  least  thirty  among  its  inhabitants,  but 
no  one  of  the  thirty  could  talk  like  that. 

Sam  Ryder's  performance  of  "Captain  Dandelion,"  the 
city  exquisite,  was,  so  the  next  issue  of  the  Item  said,  "re 
markable"  ;  there  is  little  doubt  that  the  Item  selected  the 
right  word.  Joel  Macomber  was  good,  when  he  remem 
bered  his  lines ;  Miss  Wingate  was  very  elegant  as  "a  city 
belle";  Mrs.  Bassett  made  a  competent  fisherman's  wife. 
But  everybody  declared  that  Elizabeth  Berry  and  George 
Kent,  as  "Kitty  Gale"  and  "March  Gale,"  were  the  two 
brightest  stars  in  that  night's  firmament. 

Captain  Kendrick,  between  the  acts,  could  hear  whis 
pered  comments  all  about  him.  "Isn't  Elizabeth  fine !" 
"Don't  they  do  well !"  "Ain't  she  a  good-lookin'  girl,  now — 
eh?"  "Yes,  and,  my  soul  and  body,  if  that  George  Kent 
ain't  a  match  for  her  then  7  don't  know !"  "Oh,  don't  they 
make  a  lovely  couple !"  And,  from  a  seat  two  rows  in  front, 
the  penetrating  voice  of  Mrs.  Noah  Baker  made  proclama 
tions  :  "Lovers  on  the  stage  and  off  the  stage,  too,  I  guess. 
Ha,  ha!"  And  there  was  a  general  buzz  of  agreement  and 
many  pleased  titters. 

Sears  tried  very  hard  to  enjoy  the  performance,  but  his 
thoughts  would  wander.  And,  when  the  final  curtain  fell 
and  the  applause  subsided,  he  rose  to  hobble  to  the  door, 
glad  that  the  evening  was  over. 

He  was  one  of  the  last  to  reach  the  landing  and,  at  the 
top  of  the  stairs,  Judah  met  him.  Mr.  Cahoon's  manner 
was  a  combination  of  dismay  and  triumph. 

"Oh,  there  you  be,  Cap'n  Sears,"  he  exclaimed.  "Well,  I 
told  you!  You  can't  say  I  never,  that's  one  comfort." 

"Told  me  what,  Judah?" 

"That  'twas  goin'  to  rain.  I  told  you  the  glass  was  fallin'. 
It's  a  pourin'-down  rainstorm  now,  that's  what  'tis." 

Judah,  his  faith  rooted  in  the  prophecy  of  the  falling 
barometer,  had  come  to  the  hall  with  oilskins  upon  his  arm. 
Now  he  was  arrayed  in  them  and  weather-proof. 

"I'll  fetch  the  Foam  Flake  around  to  the  platform, 
Cap'n,"  he  said.  "You'll  want  to  wait  for  'Liz'beth,  I  pre- 


160  FAIR    HARBOR 


sume  likely,  so  take  your  time  navigatin'  them  stairs.  No, 
no,  I'll  walk.  I  won't  get  wet.  /  knew  what  was  comin'. 
Aye,  aye,  sir.  I'll  fetch  the  horse.  Cal'late  the  critter 
has  gnawed  off  and  swallowed  two  fathoms  of  fence  by 
this  time." 

The  Foam  Flake  and  the  buggy  were  made  fast  by  the 
platform  when  Sears  reached  that  point.  It  was  raining 
hard.  The  greater  part  of  the  audience  had  already  started 
on  their  homeward  journey,  but  a  few  still  lingered,  some 
lamenting  the  absence  of  umbrellas  and  rubbers,  others 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  messengers  who  had  been  sent  home 
to  procure  those  protections.  The  captain,  of  course,  was 
awaiting  Elizabeth,  and  she  having  to  change  costume  and 
get  rid  of  make-up,  he  knew  his  wait  was. likely  to  be  rather 
lengthy.  He  did  not  mind  that  so  much,  but  he  did  not 
desire  to  talk  or  be  talked  -to,  so  he  walked  to  the  dark  end 
of  the  platform — the  same  end,  by  the  way,  where  George 
Kent  had  stood  when  pondering  his  problem  -before  asking 
advice — and  stood  there,  staring  into  the  splashy  blackness. 

The  last  group  left  the  lighted  portals  of  the  hall  and 
started  homeward,  exclamations  and  little  screams  denoting 
spots  where  progress  had  been  delayed  by  puddles  or  mud 
holes.  Mrs.  Eldridge,  in  the  ticket  office,  packed  up  her 
takings,  pennies  and  "shin-plasters,"  in  a  pasteboard  box 
and  departed  for  home,  Mr.  Tidditt  accompanying  her  as 
guard  and  umbrella  holder. 

"I'll  be  back  to  lock  up,  Cap'n  Sears,"  called  Asaph,  re 
assuringly.  "Stay  right  where  you  be.  You  won't  be  in 
my  way  at  all." 

For  some  minutes  longer  Sears  stood  there  alone  on  the 
platform,  facing  the  dismal  darkness  and  his  own  dismal 
thoughts.  They  were  dismal,  and  no  less  so  because  his 
common-sense  kept  prodding  him  with  the  certainty  that 
there  was  no  more  reason  for  discouragement  now  than 
there  had  been  two  hours  before.  The  obvious  offset  to 
this  was  the  equal  certainty  that  there  had  been  no  more 
reason  for  optimism  two  hours  before  than  at  present.  So 
he  stared  into  the  darkness,  listened  to  the  splashing  water- 


FAIR   HARBOR  161 


spouts,  and,  for  the  millionth  time  at  least,  eternally  con 
demned  the  Old  Colony  railroad  and  his  luck. 

A  springy,  buoyant  step  came  down  the  stairs.  A  voice 
called  from  the  dorway: 

"Cap'n  Kendrick!     Cap'n,  are  you  there?" 

Sears   turned. 

"Right  here,  George,"  he  said. 

Kent  hastened  toward  him.  His  hand  was  outstretched 
and  his  face  was  beaming. 

"It  worked,"  he  exclaimed,  eagerly.  "It  worked  in  great 
shape.  Cap'n,  you're  a  brick." 

His  friend  did  not,  momentarily,  catch  his  meaning. 

"Glad  you  think  so,  George,"  he  said;  "but  why  are  you 
so  sure  of  it  just  now?" 

"Why,  because  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you  I  should  have, 
more  than  likely,  not  tried  to  chop  the  ice  at  all." 

"Chop  the Oh,  yes,  yes;  I  remember.  So  you  and 

Elizabeth  have  made  up,  eh?" 

"Yes,  I  ...  How  on  earth  did  you  know  she  was  the 
one?  I  didn't  tell  you,  did  I?" 

"No.  It's  just  another  proof  of  my  tremendous  wisdom. 
Well,  I'm  glad,  George." 

"I  knew  you  would  be.  Mind  you,  I'm  not  sure  yet  I 

was  wrong,  but  I Good  Lord,  look  at  the  rain !  I  had 

no  idea !  .  .  .  Well,  at  any  rate,  Elizabeth  will  be  all  right. 
She's  going  with  you  in  the  buggy." 

There  was  a  slight,  a  very  slight  note  of  regret,  almost  of 
envy,  in  the  young  fellow's  tone.  The  captain  noticed  it. 

"No,  she  isn't,  George,"  he  said,  quietly. 

"What!     She  isn't?" 

"No,  she's  goin'  with  you.  You  take  the  horse  and  buggy 
and  drive  her  up  to  the  Harbor.  Then  you  can  send  Judah 
back  with  it  after  me,  if  you  will." 

"But,  Cap'n,  I  wouldn't  think  of  it.     Why : 

"No  need  to  think.  Do  it.  Look  here,  George,  you  know 
perfectly  well  you  haven't  finished  that  ice-choppin'  busi 
ness.  There  are  lots  of  things  you  want  to  tell  her  yet,  I 
know.  Come  now,  aren't  there?" 


162  FAIR    HARBOR 


Kent  hesitated.  "Why — why,  yes,  I  suppose  there  are," 
he  admitted.  "But  it  seems  mean  to  take  advantage  of  you, 
you  know.  To  leave  you  standing  here  and  waiting  while 
she  and  I " 

"That's  all  right.  I'm  better  fitted  for  waiting  than  I  am 
for  anything  else  nowadays.  Don't  argue  any  more.  She'll 
be  here  in  a  minute." 

"Well  .  .  .  well.     You're  sure  you  don't  mind,  really?" 

"Not  a  bit.     And  she'd  rather  ride  with  you,  of  course." 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  say  that.  Of  course  she  did  tell  me  she 
came  with  you  because  I — because  we  had  that — that  little 

row — and But  she  likes  you,  Cap'n.  Honest,  she  does, 

a  lot.  By  George,  nobody  could  help  liking  you,  you 
know." 

Sears'  smile  was  gray,  but  his  companion  did  not  notice. 
He  was  too  full  of  his  own  happiness. 

"I'll  run  up  and  tell  her,"  he  said.  "It's  mighty  good  of 
you,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  Sure  you  don't  care?  You  are  a 
brick." 

He  hastened  up  the  stairs.  Sears  was  left  once  more  with 
the  black  wetness  to  look  at.  It  looked  blacker  than  ever. 

Elizabeth,  accompanied  by  George,  came  down  soon  after 
ward.  She  was  still  protesting. 

"Really,  I  don't  think  this  is  right  at  all,  Cap'n  Kendrick," 
she  declared.  "Why  should  you  wait  here?  If  you  insist 
upon  George's  going  in  the  buggy,  why  don't  you  come  too? 
I'm  sure  there  will  be  room  enough.  Won't  there,  George  ?" 

Kent  said,  "Yes,  of  course,"  but  there  might  have  been 
more  enthusiasm  in  his  tone.  Sears  spoke  next. 

"I  can't  go  now,"  he  lied,  calmly.  "I  want  to  see  Ase 
Tidditt  and  he's  gone  to  see  Cap'n  Orrin's  wife  home.  Won't 
be  back  for  twenty  minutes  or  so.  No,  no,  you  and  George 
heave  right  ahead  and  go,  and  then  send  Judah  and  the 
Foam  Flake  back  for  me." 

So,  after  a  few  more  protests  on  Elizabeth's  part,  it  was 
settled  in  that  way.  She  and  her  packages  and  bags  were 
tucked  in  the  buggy  and  George  unhitched  the  placid  Foam 


FAIR    HARBOR  163 


Flake.  On  his  way  he  stopped  to  whisper  in  the  captain's 
ear. 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  he  whispered,  "I  shan't  forget  this. 
And,  say,  if  ever  I  get  into  real  trouble  I'll  know  who  to 
come  to." 

The  "plash-plash"  of  the  Foam  Flake's  hoofs  and  the 
squeak  and  grind  of  buggy  wheels  died  away  along  the  in 
visible  main  road.  Captain  Sears  stared  at  the  ropes  of 
rain  laced  diagonally  across  the  lighted  window  of  the 
town  hall. 

After  a  time,  a  surprisingly  short  time,  he  heard  the 
hoofs  returning.  It  seemed  almost  incredible  that  George 
could  have  driven  to  the  Harbor,  then  to  the  Minot  place, 
and  started  Judah  on  the  return  trip  so  soon. 

It  was  not  Judah.  It  was  Mike,  Judge  Knowles'  man, 
and  he  was  driving  Doctor  Sheldon's  horse  attached  to  the 
doctor's  chaise. 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  he  hailed,  as  the  equipage  splashed  up 
to  the  platform,  "is  that  you  there?" 

"Yes,  Mike.     What's  the  matter?" 

"I  was  just  after  goin'  to  the  Minot  place  after  ye  and  I 
met  Cahoon  and  he  tould  me  you  was  down  here.  Git  in, 
git  in;  the  doctor  says  you  must  come." 

"Come?     Come  where?" 

"Home.  To  the  judge's  house.  The  ould  man  is  dyin* 
and  he  wants  to  see  you  afore  he  goes.  Ye'll  have  to  hurry. 
The  doctor  says  it's  a  matter  of  any  time  now." 


CHAPTER   IX 

SEARS  KENDRICK  never  forgot  that  drive  from  the 
town  hall.     The  pouring  rain,  the  lurch  and  roll  and 
bounce  of  the  old  chaise,  the  alternate  thud  and  splash 
of  the  horse's  hoofs,  the  black  darkness — and  the  errand 
upon  which  he  was  going.    Mike*  told  him  a  little  concerning 
the  seizure.    Judge  Knowles  had  been,  so  Emmeline  Tidditt 
and  the  doctor  thought,  appreciably  easier  during  the  day. 

"He  was  like  himself,  the  ould  man  was,"  said  Mike.  "I 
went  in  to  see  him  this  mornin' — he  sent  for  me,  you  under 
stand — and  he  give  me  the  divil  and  all  for  not  washin'  the 
front  room  windows.  'Dom  ye/  says  he,  Tve  only  got  a 
little  while  to  look  out  of  thim  windows ;  don't  you  suppose 
I  want  thim  so  I  can  look  out  of  thim?'  And  the  windows 
clean  as  clean  all  the  time,  mind  ye.  Sure,  I  'didn't  care: 
'Twas  just  his  way  of  bein'  dacint  to  me.  He  give  me  a 
five  dollar  bill  before  I  left,  God  rest  him.  And  now " 

Mike  was  tremendously  upset.  The  captain  learned  that 
the  attack  had  developed 'about  six,  and  the  judge  had  grown 
steadily  worse  since.  The  upper  windows  of  the  Knowles 
house  were  bright  with  lights  as  they  drove  in  at  the  yard 
gate.  Mrs.  Tidditt  met  them  at  the  door.  Her  thin,  hard 
face  was  tear-streaked  and  haggard. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  cried. 
"He's  been  askin'  for  you." 

In  the  hall  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  Doctor  Sheldon  was 
waiting.  They  shook  hands  and  Sears  looked  a  question. 

"Not  a  chance,"  whispered  the  doctor.  "Barring  miracles, 
he  will  go  before  morning.  He  shouldn't  see  any  one,  but 
he  insisted  on  seeing  you.  I'll  give  you  five  minutes,  no 
more.  Don't  excite  him." 

164 


FAIR   HARBOR  165 


The  judge  looked  up  from  the  pillow  as  Sears  tiptoed 
into  the  room.  His  face  was  flushed  with  fever,  but  other 
wise  he  looked  very  much  as  when  the  captain  last  visited 
him.  It  did  not  seem  possible  that  this  could  really  be  the 
end. 

"Hello,  Kendrick,"  whispered  Judge  Knowles.  "Sit 
down.  Sorry  I  can't  shake  hands  with  you." 

The  voice  was  weak,  of  course,  but  not  much  weaker  than 
when  he  had  last  heard  it.  No,  it  did  not  seem  possible. 
Captain  Sears  murmured  something  about  his  sorrow  at 
finding  the  judge  ill  again. 

"That's  all  right,  that's  all  right/'  was  the  testy  rejoinder. 
"You  didn't  expect  to  find  me  any  other  way,  did  you? 
Kendrick,  I  wasn't  so  far  off  when  I  talked  about  that 
graveyard  trip,  eh  ?  ....  Umph — yes.  How  much  time  did 
Sheldon  say  you  might  have  with  me?  ...  Don't  fool 
around  and  waste  any  of  it.  How  many  minutes — come?" 

"Five." 

"Humph !  He  might  have  made  it  ten,  blast  him !  Well, 
then  listen.  When  I'm  gone  you're  going  to  be  the  head  of 
that  Fair  Harbor  place.  You're  going  to  keep  on  being  the 
head,  I  mean.  I've  fixed  it  so  you'll  get  your  salary." 

"But,  Judge " 

"Hush !  Let  me  do  the  talking.  Good  Lord,  man,"  with 
an  attempt  at  a  chuckle,  "you  wouldn't  grudge  me  any  of 
the  little  talk  I  have  left,  would  you?  You  are  to  keep  on 
being  the  head  of  the  Fair  Harbor — you  must  for  a  year  or 
so.  And  Elizabeth  Berry  is  to  be  the  manager  and  head, 
under  you — if  she  wants  to  be.  Understand?" 

"Why,  yes.     But,  Judge,  how " 

"I've  fixed  it,  I  tell  you.  Wait  a  little  while  and  you'll 
know  how.  But  that  isn't  what  I  want  to  say  to  you.  Lo 
belia  is  dead." 

"What?" 

"Don't  keep  asking  me  what.  Listen.  Lobelia  Seymour 
—hanged  if  I'll  call  her  Lobelia  Phillips!— is  dead.  She 
died  over  a  month  ago.  I  got  a  letter  this  afternoon  mailed 
in  Florence  by  that  husband  of  hers.  There  it  is,  on  that 


166  FAIR    HARBOR 


table,  by  the  tumbler.  .  .  .  Yes,  that's  it.  Don't  stop  to 
read  it  now.  Put  it  in  your  pocket.  You  will  have  time 
to  read  it.  Time  counts  with  me.  Now  listen,  Kendrick." 
He  paused  and  asked  for  water.  The  captain  put  the 
glass  to  his  lips.  He  swallowed  once  or  twice  and  then 
impatiently  jerked  his  head  aside. 

"There  are  two  things  you've  got  to  promise  me,  Ken 
drick,"  he  whispered,  earnestly.     "One  is  that,  so  long  as 
you  can  fight,  that  condemned  Egbert  Phillips  shan't  have  a 
cent  of  the  Fair  Harbor  property,  endowment  fund,  land  or 
anything  else.    Will  you  fight  the  scamp  for  me,  Kendrick  ?" 
"Of  course.     The  best  I  know  how." 
"You  know  more  than  most  men  in  this  town.    I  shouldn't 
have  picked  you  for  your  job  if  you  didn't.     That's  one 
thing — spike  Egbert's  guns.     Here's  the  other:    Look  out 
for  Elizabeth  Berry." 

The  captain  was  not  expecting  this.  He  leaned  back  so 
suddenly  that  his  chair  squeaked.  The  sick  man  did  not 
notice,  or,  if  he  did,  paid  no  attention. 

"She's  Isaac  Berry's  daughter,"  he  went  on,  "and  Ike 
Berry  was  my  best  friend.  More  than  that,  she's  a  good 
girl,  a  fine  girl.  Her  mother  is  more  or  less  of  a  fool,  but 
that  isn't  the  girl's  fault.  Keep  an  eye  on  her,  will  you, 
Kendrick?" 

"Why — why,  I'll  do  what  I  can,  of  course." 
"Like  her,  don't  you?" 
"Yes.     Very  much." 

"You   couldn't  help   it.     She   is  pretty  thick  with   that 
young   Kent,   I   believe.     He's   a  bright   boy." 
"Yes." 

"All  right.  .  .  .  But  there's  time  enough  for  that ;  they're 
both  young.  .  .  .  Watch  her,  Kendrick.  See  that  she 
doesn't  make  too  big  mistakes.  She — she's  going  to  have  a 
little  money  of  her  own  pretty  soon — just  a  little.  Don't 
let  that — that  Phillips  or — or  anybody  else  get  hold  of  it. 
I  ...  Oh,  here  you  are!  Confound  you,  Sheldon,  you're 
a  nuisance!" 

The  doctor  opened  the   door  and   entered.     He  nodded 


FAIR    HARBOR  167 


significantly  to  Kendrick.  The  latter  understood.  So,  too, 
did  Judge  Knowles. 

"Time's  up,  eh  ?"  he  panted.  "Well,  all  right,  I  suppose. 
Good  luck  to  you,  Kendrick.  And  good  night." 

He  smiled  cheerfully.  One  might  have  thought  he  ex 
pected  to  see  his  caller  the  next  morning.  The  captain 
simply  could  not  believe  this  was  to  be  the  last  time. 

"Good  night,  Judge,"  he  said.  "I'll  drop  in  to-morrow, 
early." 

The  judge  did  not  answer.  His  last  word  had  to  do  with 
other  things. 

"Don't  you  forget,  Kendrick,"  he  whispered.  "I've 
banked  on  you." 

The  feeling  of  the  absolute  impossibility  of  the  situation 
still  remained  with  Sears  as  Mike  drove  him  to  his  own 
door  and  Judah  helped  him  down  from  the  chaise.  It  was 
not  possible  that  a  brain  like  that,  a  bit  of  machinery  capable 
of  thinking  so  clearly  and  expressing  itself  so  vigorously, 
could  be  so  near  its  final  breakdown.  A  personality  like 
Judge  Knowles'  could  not  end  so  abruptly.  He  would  not 
have  it  so.  The  doctor  must  be  mistaken.  He  was  over 
pessimistic. 

He  sat  in  the  rocking  chair  until  nearly  half-past  one 
thinking  of  the  judge's  news,  that  Lobelia  Phillips  was  dead, 
and  of  the  charge  to  him.  Fight  Egbert — there  was  an 
element  of  humor  in  that ;  Knowles  certainly  did  hate  Phil 
lips.  But  for  him,  Kendrick,  to  assume  a  sort  of  guardian 
ship  over  the  fortunes  of  Elizabeth  Berry !  The  fun  in  that 
was  too  sardonic  to  be  pleasant.  He  thought  of  many  things 
before  he  retired,  but  the  way  ahead  looked  foggy  enough. 
And  behind  the  fog  was — what?  Why,  little  sunshine  for 
him,  in  all  human  probability.  Before  blowing  out  his  lamp 
he  peered  out  of  the  window  at  the  Knowles  house.  The 
lights  there  were  still  burning. 

The  next  morning  when  he  came  out  for  breakfast,  Judah 
met  him  with  a  solemn  face. 

"Bad  news  for  Bayport  this  mornin',  Cap'n  Sears,"  said 
Judah.  "Judge  Knowles  has  gone.  Slipped  his  cable  about 


i68  FAIR    HARBOR 


four  o'clock,  so  Mike  told  me.  There's  a  good  man  gone, 
by  Henry!  Don't  seem  hardly  as  if  it  could  be,  does  it?" 

That  was  exactly  what  Bayport  said  when  it  heard  the  ill 
tidings.  It  did  not  seem  as  if  it  could  be.  The  judge  had 
been  so  long  a  dominant  figure  in  town  affairs,  his  strong 
will  had  so  long  helped  to  mould  and  lead  opinion  and  his 
shrewd  common  sense  had  so  often  guided  the  community, 
and  individuals,  through  safe  channels  and  out  of  troubled 
waters,  that  it  was  hard  to  comprehend  the  fact  that  he 
would  lead  and  guide  no  more.  He  had  many  enemies,  no 
man  with  his  determined  character  could  avoid  that,  but 
they  were  altogether  of  a  type  whose  enmity  was,  to  decent 
people,  preferable  to  their  friendship.  During  his  life  it 
had  seemed  as  if  he  were  a  lonely  man,  but  his  funeral  was 
the  largest  held  in  Bayport  since  the  body  of  Colonel  Seth 
Foster,  killed  at  Gettysburg,  was  brought  home  from  the 
front  for  burial. 

It  was  a  gloomy,  drizzly  day  when  the  long  line  of  buggies 
and  carryalls  and  folk  on  foot  followed  the  hearse  to  the 
cemetery  amid  the  pines.  Captain  Sears,  looking  back  at 
the  procession,  thought  of  the  judge's  many  prophecies  and 
grim  jokes  concerning  this  very  journey,  and  he  wondered 
— well,  he  wondered  as  most  of  us  wonder  on  such  occa 
sions.  Also  he  realized  that,  although  their  acquaintance 
ship  had  been  brief,  he  was  going  to  miss  Judge  Knowles 
tremendously. 

"I  wish  I  had  been  lucky  enough  to  know  him  sooner," 
he  told  Judah  that  evening. 

Judah  pulled  his  nose  reflectively.  "It  kind  of  surprised 
me,"  he  observed,  "to  hear  what  the  minister  said  about 
him.  'Twas  the  Orthodox  minister,  and  he's  pretty  strict, 
too,  but  you  heard  him  say  that  the  judge  was  one  of  the 
best  men  in  Ostable  County.  Yet  he  never  went  to  meetin' 
what  you'd  call  reg'lar  and  he  did  cuss  consider'ble.  He  did 
now,  didn't  he,  Cap'n  Sears?" 

Sears  nodded.  He  was  thinking  and  paying  little  atten 
tion  to  the  Cahoon  moralizing. 

"Um-hm,"  went  on  Judah.     "He  sartin  did.     He  never 


FAIR    HARBOR  169 


said  'sugar'  when  he  meant  'damn.'  But  I  don't  know,  I 
cal'late  I'd  ruther  been  sworn  at  by  Judge  Knowles  than 
had  a  blessin'  said  over  me  by  some  others  in  these  lati 
tudes.  The  judge's  cussin'  would  have  been  honest,  any 
how.  And  he  never  put  one  of  them  swear  words  in  the 
wrong  place.  They  was  always  just  where  they  belonged  ; 
even  when  he  swore  at  me  I  always  agreed  with  him." 

Feeling,  somehow,  that  the  death  of  the  man  who  had 
chosen  and  employed  him  for  the  position  increased  his  re 
sponsibility  in  that  position,  Captain  Sears  worked  harder 
than  ever  to  earn  his  salary  as  general  manager  of  the  Fair 
Harbor.  He  had  already  made  some  improvements  in  sys 
tematizing  and  thereby  saving  money  for  the  institution. 
The  groceries,  flour,  tea,  sugar,  and  the  rest,  had  hereto 
fore  been  purchased  at  Bassett's  store  in  the  village.  He 
still  continued  to  buy  certain  articles  of  Eliphalet,  princi 
pally  from  motives  of  policy  and  to  retain  the  latter's  good 
will,  but  the  bulk  of  supplies  he  contracted  for  in  Boston 
at  the  houses  from  which  he  had  so  often  bought  stores  for 
his  ships.  He  could  not  go  to  the  city  and  negotiate  by 
word  of  mouth,  more  was  the  pity,  and  so  was  obliged  to 
make  his  trades  by  mail,  but  he  got  bids  from  several  firms 
and  the  results  were  quite  worth  while.  Besides  groceries 
he  bought  a  hogshead  of  corned  beef,  barrels  of  crackers,  a 
barrel  of  salt  pork,  and,  from  one  of  the  local  fishermen,  a 
half  dozen  kegs  of  salt  mackerel.  The  saving  altogether 
was  a  very  appreciable  amount. 

The  Fair  Harbor  property  included,  besides  the  land  upon 
which  the  house  was  situated,  several  acres  of  wood  lot 
timbered  with  pine  and  oak.  Mrs.  Berry — or  her  daughter — 
had  been  accustomed  to  hire  a  man  to  cut  and  haul  such 
wood  as  was  needed,  from  time  to  time,  for  the  stoves  and 
fireplaces.  Also,  when  repairs  had  to  be  done,  they  hired  a 
carpenter  to  make  them.  Sears,  when  he  got  around  to  it, 
devoted  some  consideration  to  the  wood  and  repair  question 
and,  after  much  haggling,  affected  a  sort  of  three-cornered 
swap.  Benijah  Black,  the  carpenter,  was  a  brother-in-law  of 
Burgess  Paine,  who  owned  the  local  coal,  wood,  lumber  and 


1 70  FAIR    HARBOR 


grain  shop  by  the  railway  station.  The  captain  arranged 
that  Black  should  do  whatever  carpenter  work  might  be 
needed  at  the  Harbor  and  take  his  pay  in  wood  at  the  wood 
lot,  selling  the  wood — or  a  part  of  it — to  Paine,  for  whom 
he  was  in  debt  for  coal  and  lumber;  and,  also,  for  whom 
he,  Black,  was  building  a  new  storage  shed.  It  was  a  com 
plicated  process,  but  it  resulted  in  the  Fair  Harbor's  getting 
its  own  firewood  cut,  hauled  and  split  for  next  to  nothing, 
its  repair  costs  cut  in  half,  its  coal  bills  lessened,  while 
Black  and  Paine  seemed  to  be  perfectly  satisfied.  Altogether 
it  was  a  good  deal  of  a  managerial  triumph,  as  even  the 
manager  himself  was  obliged  to  admit. 

Elizabeth  was  loud  in  her  praises. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  ever  did  it,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she 
declared.  "And  Benijah  and  Mr.  Paine  are  just  as  con 
tented  as  we  are.  It  is  a  miracle." 

Sears  grinned.  "I  don't  know  quite  how  I  did  it,  my 
self,"  he  said.  "  'Twas  the  most  complicated  piece  of  steerin' 
I  ever  did,  and  if  we  come  out  without  shipwreck  it  will  be 
a  miracle.  I'm  goin'  to  tackle  that  hay  question  next. 
There's  hay  enough  on  that  lower  meadow  of  ours  to  pay 
for  corn  for  the  hens  for  quite  a  spell.  I'll  see  if  I  can't 
make  a  dicker  there  somehow.  Then  if  I  can  fix  up  a  deal 
with  the  hens  to  trade  corn  for  eggs,  we'll  come  out  pretty 
well,  won't  we?" 

This  sort  of  thing  interested  him  and  made  him  a  trifle 
more  contented  with  his  work.  His  talents  as  a  diplomat, 
such  as  they  were,  were  needed  continually.  The  interior 
of  the  Fair  Harbor  was  a  sort  of  incubator  for  petty 
squabbles,  jealousies,  prejudices  and  complaints,  some 
funny,  many  ridiculous,  and  almost  all  annoying.  The  most 
petty  he  refused  to  be  troubled  with,  bidding  the  complain 
ants  go  to  Mrs.  Berry.  His  refusals  were  good-natured  but 
determined. 

"Well,  I  tell  you,  Miss  Peasley,"  he  said,  when  that  lady 
had  come  to  him  with  a  long,  involved  wail  concerning  the 
manner  in  which  Mrs.  Constance  Cahoon,  who  occupied  the 
seat  next  her  at  table,  insisted  on  keeping  the  window  open 


FAIR    HARBOR  171 


all  through  meals,  "so's  I  sit  there  with  a  draft  blowin'  right 
down  my  neck  the  whole  time."  "I  tell  you,  Miss  Peasley," 
said  the  captain,  "if  I  were  you  I  would  shut  the  window." 

"But  I  do  shut  it,"  declared  Desire.  "And  every  time  I 
jump  up  and  shut  it,  up  she  bounces  and  opens  it  again." 

"Humph!  I  see.  .  .  .  Well,  exercise  helps  digestion,  so 
they  say.  You  can  jump  as  long  as  she  can  bounce,  can't 
you?" 

Miss  Peasley  was  disgusted.  "Well,"  she  snapped,  "I 
don't  call  that  much  help.  I  supposed  if  I  went  to  the 
manager  he'd  put  his  foot  down." 

"He's  goin'  to — and  then  take  it  up  and  put  it  down  again. 
I've  got  to  hobble  out  to  see  to  mowin'  the  meadow.  You 
tell  Mrs.  Berry  all  about  it." 

As  a  part  of  his  diplomacy  he  made  it  a  point  to  spend 
half  an  hour  each  morning  in  consultation  with  Cordelia 
Berry.  The  matron  of  the  Fair  Harbor  was  at  first  rather 
suspicious  and  ready  to  resent  any  intrusion  upon  her  rights 
and  prerogatives.  But  at  each  conference  the  captain  lis 
tened  so  politely  to  her  rambling  reports,  seemed  to  receive 
her  suggestions  so  eagerly  and  to  ask  her  advice  upon  so 
many  points,  that  her  suspicions  were  lulled  and  she  came 
to  accept  the  new  superintendent's  presence  as  a  relief  and 
a  benefit. 

"He  is  so  very  gentlemanly,  Elizabeth,"  she  told  her 
daughter.  "And  so  willing  to  learn.  At  first,  as  you  know, 
I  couldn't  see  why  the  poor  dear  judge  appointed  him,  but 
now  I  do.  He  realized  that  I  needed  an  assistant.  In 
many  ways  he  reminds  me  of  your  father." 

"But,  mother,"  exclaimed  her  daughter,  in  surprise,  "Cap'n 
Kendrick  isn't  nearly  as  old  as  father  was." 

"Oh,  it  isn't  the  age  that  reminded  me.  It's  the  manner. 
He  has  the  same  quick,  authoritative  way  of  making  de 
cisions  and  saying  things.  And  it  is  so  very  gratifying  to 
see  how  he  defers  to  my  judgment  and  experience." 

Captain  Sears  did  defer,  that  is  he  seldom  opposed.  But, 
when  each  conference  was  over,  he  went  his  own  sweet 
way,  using  his  own  judgment  and  doing  what  seemed  to 


172  FAIR    HARBOR 


him  best.  With  Elizabeth,  however,  he  was  quite  different. 
When  she  offered  advice — which  was  seldom — he  listened 
and  almost  invariably  acted  upon  it.  He  was  daily  growing 
to  have  a  higher  opinion  of  her  wisdom  and  capabilities. 
Whether  or  not  it  was  the  wisdom  and  capabilities  alone 
which  influenced  that  opinion  he  did  not  attempt  to  analyze. 
He  enjoyed  being  with  her  and  working  with  her,  that  he 
knew.  That  the  constant  companionship  might  be,  for  him, 
a  risky  and  perhaps  dangerous  experience,  he  did  not  as  yet 
realize.  When  he  was  with  her,  and  busy  with  Fair  Harbor 
affairs,  he  could  forget  the  slowness  with  which  his  crippled 
legs  were  mending,  and  the  increasing  longing — sometimes 
approaching  desperation — for  the  quarter  deck  of  his  own 
ship  and  the  sea  wind  in  his  face. 

He  worked  hard  for  the  Harbor  and  did  his  best  to  jus 
tify  his  appointment  as  manager,  but,  work  as  he  might,  he 
knew  perfectly  well  that  such  labors  would  scarcely  earn  his 
salary.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  he  knew  that  the  man  who 
appointed  him  had  not  expected  them  to  do  so.  He  had 
been  put  in  charge  of  the  Fair  Harbor  for  one  reason  alone 
and  that  was  to  be  in  command  of  the  ship  when  the  re 
doubtable  Egbert  came  alongside.  Judge  Knowles  had  as 
much  as  told  him  that  very  thing,  and  more  than  once. 
Egbert  Phillips  had  been,  evidently,  the  judge's  pet  aver 
sion  and,  in  his  later  days  illness  and  fretfulness  had  mag 
nified  and  intensified  that  aversion.  When  Sears  attempted 
to  find  good  and  sufficient  reasons  for  belief  that  the  hus 
band  of  Lobelia  Seymour  was  any  such  bugbear  he  was  baf 
fled.  He  asked  Judah  more  questions  and  he  questioned 
citizens  of  Bayport  who  had  known  the  former  singing 
teacher  before  and  after  his  marriage.  Some,  like  Judah, 
declared  him  "slick"  or  "smooth."  Others,  and  those  the 
majority,  seemed  to  like  him.  He  was  polite  and  educated 
and  a  "perfect  gentleman,"  this  was  the  sum  of  femi^ 
nine  opinion.  Captain  Sears  was  inclined  to  picture  him  as 
what  he  would  have  called  a  "sissy,"  and  not  much  more 
dangerous  than  that  The  judge's  hatred,  he  came  to  believe, 
was  an  obsession,  a  sick  man's  fancy. 


FAIR    HARBOR  173 


He  had,  of  course,  read  the  Phillips  letter,  that  which 
Judge  Knowles  bade  him  take  away  and  read  that  night  of 
his  death.  He  hurriedly  read  it  on  that  occasion  before 
going  to  bed ;  he  had  reread  it  several  times  since. 

It  was  a  well- written  letter,  there  was  no  doubt  of  that,  a 
polite  letter,  almost  excessively  so,  perhaps.  In  fact,  if 
Sears  had  been  obliged  to  find  a  fault  with  it  it  would  have 
been  that  it  was  a  little  too  polite,  a  little  too  polished  and 
flowery.  It  was  not  the  sort  of  letter  that  he,  himself,  would 
have  written  under  stress  of  grief,  but  he  realized  that  it 
was  not  the  sort  of  letter  he  could  have  written  at  all. 
Taken  as  a  whole  it  was  hard  to  pick  flaws  which  might  not 
be  the  result  of  prejudice,  and  taken  sentence  by  sentence 
it  stood  the  test  almost  as  well. 

"Our  life  together  has  been  so  happy,"  wrote  Phillips,  "so 
ideal,  that  the  knowledge  of  its  end  leaves  me  stunned, 
speechless,  wordless." 

That  was  exaggeration,  of  course.  He  was  not  wordless, 
for  the  letter  contained  almost  a  superfluity  of  words ;  but 
people  often  said  things  they  did  not  mean  literally. 

"My  dear  wife  and  I  spoke  of  you  so  often,  Judge,  her 
affection  for  you  was  so  great — an  affection  which  I  share, 
as  you  know " 

Judge  Knowles  had  not  returned  the  writer's  affection, 
quite  the  contrary.  But  it  was  possible  that  Phillips  did  not 
know  this  and  that  he  was  fond  of  the  judge.  Possible, 
even  if  not  quite  probable. 

"She  and  I  never  had  a  difference  of  opinion,  never  a 
thought  which  was  not  shared.  This,  in  my  hour  of  sor 
row — "  Phillips  had  written  "my  stricken  hour"  first,  and 
then  altered  it  to  "hour  of  sorrow" — "is  my  greatest,  al 
most  my  only  consolation." 

Yet,  as  Judge  Knowles  had  expressly  stated,  Lobelia  her 
self  had  told  him  that  her  husband  did  not  know  of  the  en 
dowment  at  the  Fair  Harbor  and  she  had  at  least  hinted  that 
her  married  life  was  not  all  happiness. 

But,  yet  again,  the  judge  was  ill  and  weak,  he  had  never 
liked  Phillips,  had  always  distrusted  and  suspected  him,  and 


174  FAIR    HARBOR 


.might  he  not  have  fancied  unhappiness  when  there  was  none  ? 

The  letter  said  nothing  concerning  its  writer's  plans.  It 
told  of  Mrs.  Phillips'  death,  her  burial  at  Florence,  and  of 
the  widower's  grief.  The  only  hint,  or  possible  hint,  con 
cerning  a  visit  to  Bayport  was  contained  in  one  line,  "When 
I  see  you  I  can  tell  you  more." 

The  captain  puzzled  over  the  letter  a  good  deal.  He 
showed  it  to  Elizabeth.  He  found  that  Judge  Knowles  had 
not  discussed  Egbert  with  her  at  all.  To  her  the  ex-singing 
teacher  was  little  more  than  a  name;  she  remembered  him, 
but  nothing  in  particular  concerning  him.  She 'thought  the 
letter  a  very  beautiful  one — very  sad,  of  course,  but  beauti 
ful.  Plainly  she  did  not  have  the  feeling  which  Sears  had, 
but  which  he  was  inclined  to  think  might  be  fathered  by 
prejudice,  that  it  was  a  trifle  too  beautiful,  that  its  beauty 
was  that  of  a  painting  by  a  master,  each  stroke  carefully 
touched  in  at  exactly  the  right  place  for  effect. 

There  was  no  demand  for  money  in  it,  no  hint  at  strait 
ened  circumstances ;  so  why  should  there  be  any  striving 
for  effect?  He  gave  it  up.  If  the  much  talked  of  Egbert 
was  what  Judge  Knowles  had  declared  him  to  be,  then 
neither  the  judge  nor  any  one  else  had  exaggerated  his 
smoothness. 

Emmeline  Tidditt,  for  so  many  years  the  Knowles  house 
keeper,  made  one  remark  which  contained  possible  food  for 
thought. 

"So  he  buried  her  over  there  amongst  them  foreigners, 
did  he?"  observed  Emmeline.  "That  seems  kind  of  funny. 
When  she  and  him  was  visitin'  here  the  last  time  she  told 
me  herself — and  he  was  standin'  right  alongside  and  heard 
her — that  when  she  died  she  wanted  to  be  fetched  back 
here  to  Bayport  and  buried  in  the  Orthodox  cemetery  along 
side  her  father  and  mother  and  all  her  folks.  Said,  dead  or 
alive,  it  wasn't  really  home  for  her  anywheres  else.  She 
must  have  changed  her  mind  since,  though,  I  cal'late." 

Bayport  talked  a  good  deal  about  Lobelia  Phillips  and 
what  would  become  of  the  Fair  Harbor  now  that  its  founder 
and  patroness  was  dead.  It  was  surmised,  of  course,  that 


FAIR    HARBOR  175 


Mrs.  Phillips  had  provided  for  her  pet  institution  in  her 
will,  but  that  will  had  not  yet  been  offered  for  probate. 
Neither  had  the  will  of  Judge  Knowles,  for  that  matter. 
Lawyer  Bradley,  over  at  Orham,  the  attorney  with  whom 
George  Kent  was  reading  law,  was  known  to  be  the  judge's 
executor.  And  Judge  Knowles  and  Mr.  Bradley  were  co- 
executors  for  Lobelia  Phillips,  having  been  duly  named  by 
Lobelia  on  her  last  visit  to  Bayport.  So,  presumably,  both 
wills  were  in  Bradley's  possession.  But  why  had  they  not 
been  probated? 

Bradley  himself  made  the  explanation. 

"The  judge  had  a  nephew  in  California,"  he  said.  "He 
was  the  nearest  relative — although  that  isn't  very  near.  Of 
course  he  couldn't  get  on  for  the  funeral,  but  he  is  coming 
pretty  soon.  I  thought  I  would  wait  until  he  came  before 
I  opened  the  will.  As  for  Mrs.  Phillips'  will,  I  expect 
that  her  husband  must  be  on  his  way  here  now.  I  haven't 
heard  from  him,  but  I  take  it  for  granted  he  is  coming.  I 
shall  wait  a  while  for  him,  too.  There  is  no  pressing 
hurry  in  either  case." 

So  Bayport  talked  about  the  wills  and  the  expected  ar 
rival  of  the  heirs,  but  as  time  passed  and  neither  nephew 
nor  husband  arrived,  began  to  lose  interest  and  to  talk  of 
other  things.  Sears  Kendrick,  remembering  his  last  con 
versation  with  Judge  Knowles,  was  curious  to  learn  ex 
actly  what  the  latter  meant  by  his  hints  concerning  "fixing 
things"  for  the  Fair  Harbor  and  Elizabeth  having  "money 
of  her  own,"  but  he  was  busy  and  did  not  allow  his  curi 
osity  to  interfere  with  his  schemes  and  improvements.  He 
and  Miss  Berry  saw  each  other  every  day,  worked  to 
gether  and  planned  together,  and  the  captain's  fits  of  des 
pondency  and  discouragement  grew  less  and  less  frequent. 
He  had  an  odd  feeling  at  times,  a  feeling  as  if,  instead  of 
growing  older  daily,  he  was  growing  younger.  He  men 
tioned  it  to  Elizabeth  on  one  occasion  and  she  did  not 
laugh,  but  seemed  to  understand. 

"It  is  true,"  she  said.  "I  have  noticed  it.  You*  are  get 
ting  younger,  Cap'n  Kendrick." 


176  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Am  I?  That's  good.  Be  better  yet  if  I  didn't  have 
such  a  tremendous  long  way  to  go." 

"Nonsense!  You  aren't  old.  When  I  first  met  you  I 
thought — it  sounds  dreadful  when  I  say  it — I  thought  you 
were  fifty,  at  least.  Now  I  don't  believe  you  are  more  than 
— well,  thirty-five." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  am.  I  am — humph! — let's  see,  I  am — er — 
thirty-eight  my  next  birthday.  And  I  suppose  that  sounds 
pretty  ancient  to  you." 

"No,  indeed  it  doesn't.  Why,  thirty-eight  isn't  old  at 
all !" 

The  interesting  discussion  of  ages  was  interrupted  just 
then,  but  Sears  found  pleasure  in  the  thought  that  she,  too, 
had  noticed  that  he  looked  and  acted  younger.  It  was 
being  at  work  again,  he  believed,  which  was  responsible 
for  the  rejuvenation;  this  and  the  now  unmistakable  fact 
that,  although  the  improvement  was  still  provokingly  slow, 
his  legs  were  better,  really  better.  He  could,  as  he  said, 
navigate  much  more  easily  now.  Once,  at  supper  time,  he 
walked  from  his  room  to  the  table  without  a  cane.  It  was 
a  laborious  journey,  and  he  was  glad  when  it  was  over, 
but  he  made  it.  Judah  came  in  just  in  time  to  see  the  end. 

"Jumpin',  creepin',  hoppin'  hookblocks,  Cap'n  Sears!" 
cried  Judah.  "Is  that  you,  doin'  that?" 

"What's  left  of  me,  Judah.  I  feel  just  this  minute  as  if 
there  wasn't  much  left." 

"Well,  creepin'  prophets !  I  couldn't  believe  it.  Thinks 
I,  There's  fog  in  my  deadlights  and  I  can't  see  through 
'em  right.'  Well,  by  Henry!  And  a  little  spell  ago  you 
was  tellin'  me  you'd  never  be  able  to  cruise  again  except 
under  jury  rig.  Humph!  You'll  be  up  to  the  town  hall 
dancin'  'Hull's  Victory'  and  'Smash  the  Windows'  fust 
thing  we  know." 

After  supper  the  captain,  using  the  cane  but  whistling  a 
sprightly  air,  strolled  out  to  the  front  gate,  where,  leaning 
over  the  fence,  he  looked  up  and  down  the  curving,  tree- 
shaded  road,  dozing  in  the  late  summer  twilight.  And  up 


FAIR    HARBOR  177 


that  road  came  George  Kent,  also  whistling,  to  swing  in 
at  the  Fair  Harbor  gate  and  stride  to  the  side  door. 

Before  that  object  lesson  of  real  youth  Sears'  fictitious 
imitation  seemed  cheap  and  shoddy.  He  leaned  heavily 
upon  his  cane  as  he  hobbled  back  to  the  kitchen. 

The  next  day  something  happened.  Sears  had  been  busy 
all  the  forenoon  superintending  the  carting  in  and  stowing 
of  the  Fair  Harbor  share  of  oak  and  pine  from  the  wood- 
lot.  Thirteen  cords  of  it,  sawed  and  split  in  lengths  to 
suit  the  Harbor  stoves  and  fireplaces,  were  to  be  piled  in 
the  sheds  adjoining  the  old  Seymour  barn  at  the  rear  of 
the  premises.  Judah  had  been  engaged  to  do  the  piling. 
The  captain  had  hesitated  about  employing  him  for  several 
reasons,  one  being  that  he  was  drawing  wages — small  but 
regular — as  caretaker  at  the  General  Minot  place;  another, 
that  there  might  be  some  criticism — or  opportunity  for 
criticism — because  of  the  relationship,  landlord  and  lodger, 
which  existed  between  them.  Judah  himself  scorned  the 
thought. 

"Mean  to  tell  me  I  can't  work  for  you  just  because  you're 
boardin'  along  of  me,  Cap'n  Sears?"  he  protested.  "I've 
cooked  for  you  a  good  many  years  and  I  worked  for  you 
then,  didn't  I?" 

"Ye — es,  but  you  had  signed  up  to  work  for  me  then. 
That's  what  they  paid  you  for." 

"Well,  it's  what  you  pay  me  for  now,  ain't  it?  And 
Ogden  Minot  he  pays  me  to  be  stevedore  aboard  his  house 
yonder.  And  the  Fair  Harbor's  cal'latin'  to  pay  me  for 
pilin'  this  wood,  ain't  it?  You  ain't  payin'  for  that,  nor 
Ogden  nuther.  Well,  then!  .  .  .  Oh,  don't  let's  waste 
time  arguin'  about  it  now,  Cap'n  Sears.  Let's  do  the  way 
Abe  Pepper  done  when  the  feller  asked  him  to  take  a  little 
somethin'.  Abe  had  promised  his  wife  he'd  sign  the  pledge 
and  he  was  on  his  way  to  temp'rance  meetin'  where  he  was 
goin'  to  meet  her  and  sign  it.  And  on  the  way  he  ran 
acrost  this  feller — Cornelius  Bassett  'twas — and  Cornelius 
says,  'Come  have  a  drink  with  me,  Abe,'  he  says.  Well, 
time  Abe  got  around  to  meet  his  wife  the  temp'rance  meetin' 


1 78  FAIR    HARBOR 


hall  was  all  dark  and  Abe  was  all — er — lighted  up,  as  you 
might  say.  'Why  didn't  you  tell  that  Bassett  man  you 
was  in  a  hurry  and  couldn't  stop?'  his  wife  wanted  to  know. 
'Didn't  have  time  to  tell  him  nothin','  explains  Abe.  'I 
knew  I  was  late  for  meetin'  as  'twas.'  Then  why  didn't 
you  come  right  on  to  meetin'?'  she  wanted  to  know.  'If 
I'd  done  that  I'd  lost  the  drink,'  says  he." 

The  captain  laughed,  but  looked  doubtful. 

"I  don't  quite  see  where  that  yarn  fits  in  this  case, 
Judah,"  he  observed. 

"Don't  ye?  Well,  I  don't  know's  it  does.  But  anyhow, 
don't  let's  waste  time  arguin'.  Let  me  pile  the  wood  fust 
and  then  we  can  argue  afterwards." 

So  he  was  piling  busily,  carrying  the  wood  in  huge  arm- 
fuls  from  the  heaps  where  the  carts  had  left  it  into  the  barn, 
and  singing  as  he  worked.  But,  bearing  in  mind  his  skip 
per's  orders  concerning  the  kind  of  song  he  was  to  sing,  his 
chantey  this  time  dealt  neither  with  the  eternal  feminine  nor 
the  flowing  bowl.  Suggested  perhaps  by  the  nature  of  his 
task,  he  bellowed  of  "Fire  Down  Below." 

"Tire  in  the  galley, 

Fire  in  the  house, 
Fire  in  the  beef-kid 

Burnin'  up  the  scouce. 
Fire,  fire,  FIRE  down  below ! 
Fetch  a  bucket  of  water ! 

Fire!  down  BELOW!'" 

Captain  Sears,  after  watching  and  listening  for  a  few 
minutes,  turned  to  limp  up  the  hill,  past  the  summer-house 
and  the  garden  plots,  to  the  side  entrance  of  the  Fair  Har 
bor.  The  mystery  of  these  garden  patches,  their  exact 
equality  of  size  and  shape,  had  been  explained  to  him  by 
Elizabeth.  The  previous  summer  the  Fair  Harbor  guests, 
or  a  few  of  them,  led,  as  usual,  by  Miss  Snowden  and  Mrs. 
Brackett,  had  suddenly  been  seized  with  a  feverish  desire  to 
practice  horticulture.  They  had  demanded  flower  beds  of 


FAIR    HARBOR  179 


their  own.  So,  after  much  debate  and  disagreement  on  their 
part,  Elizabeth  and  her  mother  had  had  the  slope  beneath 
the  Eyrie  laid  out  in  plots  exactly  alike,  one  for  each  guest, 
and  the  question  of  ownership  had  been  settled  by  drawing 
lots.  Each  plot  owner  might  plant  and  cultivate  her  own 
garden  in  her  own  way.  These  ways  differed  widely,  hence 
the  varied  color  schemes  and  diversifications  of  design  noted 
by  Sears  on  his  first  visit.  The  most  elaborate — not  to  say 
"whirliggy" — design  was  the  product  of  Miss  Snowden's 
labor.  The  captain  would  have  guessed  it.  The  plot  which 
contained  no  flowers  at  all,  but  was  thickly  planted  with 
beets,  onions  and  other  vegetables,  belonged  to  Esther  Tid- 
ditt.  He  would  have  guessed  that,  too. 

He  had  stopped  for  an  instant  to  inspect  the  plots,  when 
he  heard  a  footstep.  Looking  up,  he  saw  a  man  descending 
the  slope  along  the  path  by  the  Eyrie. 

The  man  was  a  stranger,  that  was  plain  at  first  glance. 
The  captain  did  not  know  every  one  in  Bayport,  but  he  had 
at  least  a  recognizing  acquaintance  with  most  of  the  males, 
and  this  particular  male  was  not  one  of  them.  And  Sears 
would  have  bet  heavily  that  neither  was  he  one  of  the  very 
few  whom  he  did  not  know.  He  was  not  a  Bayport  citi 
zen,  he  did  not  look  Bayport. 

He  was  very  tall  and  noticeably  slim.  He  wore  a  silk 
hat,  what  Bayport  still  called  a  "beaver"  in  memory  of  the 
days  when  such  headpieces  were  really  covered  with  beaver 
fur.  There  was  nothing  unusual  in  this  fact ;  most  of  Bay- 
port's  prosperous  citizens  wore  beavers  on  Sundays  or  for 
dress  up.  But  there  was  this  of  the  unusual  about  this  par 
ticular  hat :  it  had  an  air  about  it,  a  something  which  would 
have  distinguished  it  amid  fifty  Bayport  tiles.  And  yet  just 
what  that  something  was  Sears  Kendrick  could  not  have 
told,  he  could  not  have  defined  it,  but  he  knew  it  was  there. 

There  was  the  same  unusual  something  about  the  strang 
er's  apparel  in  general,  and  yet  there  was  nothing  loud  about 
it  or  queer.  He  carried  a  cane,  but  so  did  Captain  Elkanah 
Wingate,  for  that  matter,  although  only  on  Sundays.  Cap 
tain  Elkanah,  however,  carried  his  as  if  it  were  a  club,  or  a 


i8o  FAIR    HARBOR 


scepter,  or  a — well,  a  marlin-spike,  perhaps.  The  stranger's 
cane  was  a  part  of  his  arm,  and  when  he  twirled  it  the  twirls 
were  graceful  gestures,  not  vulgar  flourishes. 

Sears's  reflections  concerning  the  newcomer  were  by  no 
means  as  analytical  as  this,  of  course.  His  first  impressions 
were  those  of  one  coming  upon  a  beautiful  work  of  art,  a 
general  wonder  and  admiration,  not  detailed  at  all.  Judah, 
standing  behind  him  with  an  armful  of  wood,  must  have  had 
similar  feelings,  for  he  whispered,  hoarsely,  "Creepin' 
Moses,  Cap'n  Sears,  is  that  the  Prince  of  Wales,  or  who?" 

The  man,  standing  in  the  path  above  the  gardens,  stopped 
to  look  about  him.  And  at  that  moment,  from  the  vine- 
covered  Eyrie  emerged  Miss  Elvira  Snowden.  She  had 
evidently  been  there  for  some  time,  reading — she  had  a 
book  in  her  hand — and  as  she  came  out  she  and  the  stranger 
were  brought  face  to  face. 

Sears  and  Judah  saw  them  look  at  each  other.  The  man 
raised  his  hat  and  said  something  which  they  could  not  hear. 
Then  Miss  Snowden  cried  "Oh!"  She  seemed  intensely 
surprised  and,  for  her,  a  good  deal  flustered.  There  was 
more  low-toned  conversation.  Then  Elvira  and  the  stranger 
turned  and  walked  back  up  the  path  toward  the  house.  He 
escorted  her  in  a  manner  and  with  a  manner  which  made 
that  walk  a  sort  of  royal  progress. 

"Who  was  that?"  asked  Sears,  as  much  of  himself  as  of 
Judah. 

But  Mr.  Cahoon  had,  by  this  time,  settled  the  question  to 
his  own  satisfaction. 

"It's  one  of  them  slick  critters  peddlin'  lightnin'  rods,"  he 
declared,  with  conviction.  "When  you  sight  somebody  that 
looks  like  a  cross  between  a  minister  and  one  of  them 
stuffed  dummies  they  have  outside  of  the  stores  in  Dock 
Square  *to  show  off  clothes  on,  then  you  can  'most  generally 
bet  he's  peddlin'  lightnin'  rods.  Either  that  or  paintin' 
signs  on  fences  about  'Mustang  Liniment'  or  'Vegetine'  or 
somethin'.  Why,  a  feller  like  that  hove  alongside  me  over 
in  our  yard  one  time — 'twas  afore  you  come,  Cap'n  Sears — 


FAIR    HARBOR  181 


— and  I  give  you  my  word,  the  way  he  was  togged  up 
I  thought " 

The  captain  did  not  wait  to  hear  the  Cahoon  thought. 
He  walked  away.  In  a  few  minutes  he  had  forgotten  the 
stranger,  having  other  and  more  important  matters  on  his 
mind.  There  was  a  question  concerning  the  Fair  Harbor 
cooking  range  which  was  perplexing  him  just  at  this  time. 
It  looked  as  if  they  might  have  to  buy  a  new  one,  and  Sears, 
as  superintendent  of  finances,  hated  to  spend  the  money  that 
month. 

He  limped  up  the  slope  and  along  the  path  to  the  side 
door.  And  when  he  entered  that  door  he  became  aware 
that  something  unusual  was  going  on.  The  atmosphere  of 
the  Fair  Harbor  for  Mariners'  Women  was,  so  to  speak, 
electrified,  it  was  vibrant  with  excitement  and  mystery. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  dining  room,  and  no  one  in  the 
sitting  room.  Yet  in  each  of  these  apartments  were  numer 
ous  evidences  that  people  had  been  there  very  recently  and 
left  in  a  great  hurry.  A  cloth  partially  laid  and  left  hang 
ing.  Drawers  of  the  buffet  left  open.  A  broom  lying 
directly  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  where  it  had  been  dropped. 
An  upset  work-basket,  disgorging  spools,  needle  packets, 
and  an  avalanche  of  stockings  awaiting  darning.  A  lamp 
with  the  chimney  standing  beside  it  on  the  table.  These 
were  some  of  the  signs  denoting  sudden  and  important  in 
terruption  of  a  busy  forenoon. 

Captain  Sears,  wondering  much,  turned  from  the  sitting 
room  into  the  hall  leading  to  the  parlor.  Then  he  became 
aware  that,  ahead  of  him,  was  the  center  and  core  of  ex 
citement.  From  the  parlor  came  a  murmur  of  voices,  ex 
clamations,  giggles — the  sounds  as  of  a  party,  a  meeting  of 
the  sewing-circle,  or  a  reception.  He  could  not  imagine 
what  it  was  all  about. 

He  reached  the  parlor  door  and  stood  there  for  an  instant 
looking  in.  Every  inmate  of  the  Harbor  was  in  that  room, 
including  Elizabeth  and  her  mother  and  even  Caroline 
Snow,  who,  because  it  was  Monday,  was  there  to  help  with 
the  washing.  And  every  one — or  almost  every  one — was 


1 82  FAIR    HARBOR 


talking,  and  the  majority  were  crowded  about  one  spot,  a 
spot  where  stood  a  man,  a  man  whom  Sears  recognized  as 
the  stranger  he  had  seen  in  the  garden. 

And  then  Mrs.  Berry,  who  happened  to  be  facing  the 
door,  saw  him.  She  broke  through  the  ring  of  women  and 
hurried  over.  Her  face  was  aglow,  her  eyes  were  shining, 
there  were  bright  spots  in  her  cheeks,  and,  altogether,  she 
looked  younger  and  handsomer  than  the  captain  had  ever 
seen  her,  more  as  he  would  have  imagined  she  must  have 
looked  in  the  days  when  Cap'n  Ike  came  South  a-courting. 

"Oh,  Captain  Kendrick,"  she  cried,  "I  am  so  very  glad 
you  have  come.  We  have  just  had  such  a  surprise !  Such 
a  very  unexpected  surprise,  but  a  very  delightful  one. 
Come!  You  must  meet  him." 

She  took  his  hand  and  led  him  toward  the  stranger.  The 
latter,  seeing  them  approach,  politely  pushed  through  the 
group  surrounding  him  and  stepped  forward.  Sears  no 
ticed  for  the  first  time  that  the  sleeve  of  his  coat  was  en 
circled  by  a  broad  band  of  black.  His  tie  was  black  also, 
so  were  his  cuff  buttons.  He  was  in  mourning.  An  amaz 
ing  idea  flashed  to  the  captain's  brain. 

"Captain  Kendrick,"  gushed  Mrs.  Berry,  "I  have  the 
honor  to  present  you  to  Mr.  Phillips,  husband  of  our  be 
loved  founder." 

Mr.  Phillips  smiled — his  teeth  were  very  fine,  his  smile 
engaging.  He  extended  a  hand. 

"I  am  delighted  to  meet  Captain  Kendrick,"  he  said. 

The  captain's  stammered  answer  was  conventional,  and 
was  not  a  literal  expression  of  his  thought.  The  latter,  put 
into  words,  would  have  been: 

"Egbert !     I  might  have  known  it." 

But  there  was  no  real  reason  why  he  should  have  known 
it,  for  this  Egbert  was  not  at  all  like  the  Egbert  he  had 
been  expecting  to  see. 


CHAPTER   X 

SEARS  KENDRICK  left  the  Fair  Harbor,  perhaps 
fifteen  minutes  later,  with  that  thought  still  upper 
most  in  his  mind.  This  was  not  at  all  the  Egbert 
Phillips  he  had  expected.  From  Judge  Knowles'  conver 
sation,  from  Judah  Gaboon's  stories,  from  fragmentary  de 
scriptions  he  had  picked  up  here  and  there  about  Bayport, 
he  had  fashioned  an  Egbert  who  had  come  to  be  in  his  mind 
a  very  real  individual.  This  Egbert  of  his  imagining  was 
an  oily,  rather  flashily  dressed  adventurer,  a  glib  talker, 
handsome  in  a  stage  hero  sort  of  way,  with  exaggerated 
politeness  and  a  toothsome  smile.  There  should  be  about 
this  individual  a  general  atmosphere  of  brilliantine,  clothes 
and  jewelry.  On  the  whole  he  might  have  been  expected  to 
look  a  bit  like  the  manager  the  captain  had  seen  standing 
beside  the  ticket  wagon  at  the  circus,  twirling  his  mustache 
with  one  hand  and  his  cane  with  the  other.  Not  quite  as 
showy,  not  quite  as  picturesque,  but  a  marked  resemblance 
nevertheless. 

And  the  flesh  and  blood  Egbert  Phillips  was  not  that  kind 
at  all.  One  was  not  conscious  of  his  clothes,  except  that 
they  were  all  that  they  should  be  as  to  fit — and  style.  He 
wore  no  jewelry  whatever  save  his  black  cuff  buttons  and 
studs.  His  black  tie  was  not  of  Bayport's  fashion,  cer 
tainly.  It  was  ample,  flowing  and  picturesque,  rather  in 
the  foreign  way.  No  other  male  in  Bayport  could  have 
worn  that  tie  and  not  looked  foolish,  yet  Mr.  Phillips  did 
not  look  foolish,  far  from  it.  He  did  not  wear  a  beard, 
another  unusual  bit  of  individuality,  but  his  long,  drooping 
mustache  was  extraordinarily  becoming  and — yes,  aristo 
cratic  was  the  word.  His  smile  was  pleasant,  his  handshake 

183 


1 84  FAIR    HARBOR 


was  cordial,  but  not  overdone,  and  his  voice  low  and  pleas 
ant.  Above  all  he  had  a  manner,  a  manner  which  caused 
Sears,  who  had  sailed  pretty  well  over  the  world  and  had 
met  all  sorts  of  people  in  all  sorts  of  places,  to  feel  awk 
ward  and  countrified.  Yet  one  could  tell  that  Mr.  Phillips 
would  not  have  one  feel  that  way  for  the  world ;  it  was  his 
desire  to  put  every  one  at  his  or  her  ease. 

He  greeted  the  captain  with  charming  affability.  He  had 
heard  of  him,  of  course.  He  understood  they  were  neigh 
bors,  as  one  might  say.  He  looked  forward  to  the  pleasure 
of  their  better  acquaintance.  He  had  gotten  but  little  fur 
ther  than  this  when  Mrs.  Berry,  Miss  Snowden  and  the 
rest  again  swooped  down  upon  him  and  Sears  was  left 
forgotten  on  the  outside  of  the  circle.  He  went  home  soon 
afterward  and  sat  down  in  the  Minot  kitchen  to  think  it 
over. 

Egbert  had  come.  .  .  .     Well?     Now  what? 

He  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  afternoon  superintend 
ing  the  stowage  of  the  wood  and  did  not  go  back  to  the 
Harbor  at  all.  But  he  was  perfectly  certain  that  he  was 
not  missed.  The  Fair  Harbor  for  Mariners'  Women  fairly 
perspired  excitement.  Caroline  Snow,  her  washing  hung 
upon  the  lines  in  the  back  yard,  found  time  to  scurry  down 
the  hill  and  tell  Judah  the  news.  The  captain  had  limped 
up  to  his  room  for  a  forgotten  pipe,  and  when  he  returned 
Judah  was  loaded  with  it.  He  fired  his  first  broadside 
before  his  lodger  entered  the  barn. 

"Say,  Cap'n  Sears,"  hailed  Mr.  Cahoon,  breathlessly,  "do 
you  know  who  that  feller  was  me  and  you  seen  along  of 
Elviry  this  forenoon?  The  tall  one  with  the  beaver  and — 
and  the  gloves  and  the  cane?  The  one  I  called  the  Prince 
of  Wales  or  else  a  lightnin'-rod  peddler?  Do  you  know 
who  he  is?" 

Sears  nodded.     "Yes,"  he  said,  shortly. 

Judah  stared,  open-mouthed. 

"You  do?"  he  gasped. 

"Yes." 


FAIR    HARBOR  185 


"You  mean  to  tell  me  you  know  he's  that — ah — er — 
what's-his-name — Eg  Phillips  come  back?" 

"Yes,  Judah." 

"My  hoppin'  Henry!     Why  didn't  you  say  so?" 

"I  didn't  know  it  then,  Judah.  I  found  it  out  afterward, 
when  I  went  up  to  the  house." 

"Yes — but — but  you  knew  it  when  you  and  me  was  eatin' 
dinner,  didn't  you?  Why  didn't  you  say  somethin'  about 
it  then?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  It  isn't  important  enough  to  inter 
fere  with  our  meals,  is  it  ?" 

Judah  slowly  shook  his  head.  "It's  a  dum  good  thing  you 
wan't  around  time  of  the  flood,  Cap'n  Sears,"  he  declared. 
'  'Twould  have  been  the  thirty-eighth  day  afore  you'd  have 
cal'lated  'twas  sprinklin'  hard  enough  to  notice.  Afore  that 
you'd  have  called  it  a  thick  fog,  I  presume  likely.  If  you 
don't  think  this  Phillips  man's  makin'  port  is  important 
enough  to  talk  about  you  take  a  cruise  down  to  the  store 
to-night.  You'll  hear  more  cacklin'  than  you'd  hear  in  a 
henhouse  in  a  week — and  all  account  of  just  one  Egg,  too," 
he  added,  with  a  chuckle. 

"Caroline  told  you  he  had  come,  I  suppose?  Well,  what 
does  she  think  of  him?" 

Judah  snorted.  "She?"  he  repeated.  "She  thinks  he's 
the  Angel  Gabriel  dressed  up." 

He  would  have  liked  to  discuss  the  new  arrival  the  re 
mainder  of  the  afternoon,  but  the  captain  was  not  in  the 
mood  to  listen.  Neither  was  he  more  receptive  or  dis- 
cussive  at  supper  time.  Judah  wanted  to  talk  of  nothing 
else,  and  to  speculate  concerning  the  amount  of  wealth  which 
Mr.  Phillips  might  have  inherited,  upon  the  probable  date 
of  the  reading  of  Lobelia's  will,  upon  whether  or  not  the 
fortunate  legatee  might  take  up  his  residence  in  Bayport. 

"Say,  Cap'n,"  he  observed,  turning  an  inflamed  counten 
ance  from  the  steam  of  dishwashing,  "don't  you  cal'late 
maybe  he  may  be  wantin*  to — er — sort  of  change  things 
aboard  the  Fair  Harbor?  He'll  be  Admiral,  as  you  might 
say,  now,  won't  he?" 


1 86  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Will  he?" 

"Well— won't  he?" 

"Don't  know,  Judah.  I  haven't  thrown  up  my  commis 
sion  yet,  you  know." 

"No,  course  you  ain't,  course  you  ain't  I  don't  mean  he'd 
think  of  disrating  you,  Cap'n  Sears.  Nobody'd  be  fool- 
head  enough  for  that.  .  .  .  But,  honest,  I  would  like  to 
look  at  him  and  hear  him  talk.  Caroline  Snow,  she  says 
he's  the  finest,  highest-toned  man  ever  she  see." 

"Yes?    Well,  that's  sayin'  somethin'." 

"Yus,  but  'tain't  sayin'  too  much.  She  lives  down  to 
Woodchuck  Neck  and  the  highest  thing  down  there  is  a 
barrel  of  cod-livers.  They're  good  and  high  when  the  sun 
gets  to  'em." 

When  the  dishes  were  done  he  announced  that  he  guessed 
likely  he  might  as  well  go  down  to  Eliphalet's  and  listen 
to  the  cackling.  The  captain  did  not  object,  and  so  he  put 
on  his  cap  and  departed.  But  he  was  back  again  in  less 
than  a  minute. 

"He's  comin',  Cap'n,"  he  cried,  excitedly.  "Creepin' 
Moses !  He's  comin'  here." 

Sears  remained  calm.  "He  is,  eh?"  he  observed.  "Well, 
is  he  creepin'  now?" 

"Hey?     Creepin'?    What  are  you  talkin'  about?" 

"Why,  Moses.     You  said  he  was  comin',  didn't  you?" 

"I  said  that  Egbert  man  was  comin'.  He  was  just  on- 
latchin'  the  gate  when  I  see  him.  .  .  .  Hey?  That's  him 
knockin'  now.  Shall  I — shall  I  let  him  in,  Cap'n  Sears?" 

"I  would  if  I  were  you,  Judah.  If  you  don't  I  shall 
have  to." 

So  Judah  did.  Mr.  Phillips  entered  the  kitchen,  remov 
ing  his  silk  hat  at  the  threshold.  Mr.  Cahoon  followed,  too 
overcome  with  excitement  and  curiosity  to  remember  to  take 
off  his  own  cap.  Sears  Kendrick  would  have  risen  from 
the  armchair  in  which  he  was  seated,  but  the  visitor  ex 
tended  a  gloved  hand. 

"Don't.  Don't  rise,  I  beg  of  you,"  he  said,  earnestly. 
"Pray  keep  your  seat,  Captain  Kendall.  I  have  just  learned 


FAIR    HARBOR  187 


of  your  most  unfortunate  accident.  Really,  I  must  insist 
that  you  remain  just  as  you  are.  You  will  distress  me 
greatly  if  you  move  on  my  account.  Thank  you,  thank 
you.  I  suppose  I  should  apologize  for  running  in  in  this 
informal  way, .but  I  feel  almost  as  if  I  had  known  you  for 
a  long  time.  Our  mutual  friends,  the  Berrys,  have  told  me 
so  much  concerning  you  since  my  arrival  that  I  did  not 
stand  upon  ceremony  at  all." 

"That's  right,"  declared  the  captain,  heartily.  "I'm  glad 
you  didn't.  Sit  down,  Mr.  Phillips.  Put  your  hat  on  the 
table  there." 

Judah  stepped  forward. 

"Give  it  to  me;  I'll  take  care  of  it,"  he  said,  taking  the 
shining  beaver  from  the  visitor's  hand.  "I'll  hang  it  up 
yonder  in  the  back  entry,  then  'twon't  get  knocked  onto  the 
floor.  .  .  .  No,  no,  don't  set  in  that  chair,  that's  got  a 
spliced  leg;  it's  liable  to  land  you  on  your  beam  ends  if 
you  ain't  careful.  Try  this  one." 

He  kicked*  the  infirm  chair  out  of  the  way  and  pushed 
forward  a  substitute.  "There,"  he  added,  cheerfully, 
"that's  solid's  the  rock  of  Giberaltar.  Nothin'  like  bein' 
sure  of  your  anchorage.  Set  down,  set  down." 

He  beamed  upon  the  caller.  The  latter  did  not  beam 
exactly.  His  expression  was  a  queer  one.  Sears  came  to 
the  rescue. 

"Mr.  Phillips,"  he  said,  "this  is  Mr.  Cahoon." 

Judah  extended  a  mighty  hand. 

"Pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Mr.  Phillips,"  he 
declared.  "I've  heard  tell  of  you  considerable." 

Egbert  looked  at  the  hand.  His  expression  was  still 
queer. 

"Oh — ah — how  d'ye  do?"  he  murmured. 

"Mr.  Cahoon  and  I.  are  old  friends,"  explained  Sears. 
"I  am  boardin'  here  with  him." 

"Yus,"  put  in  Judah.  "And  afore  that  I  shipped  cook 
aboard  Cap'n  Sears's  vessels  for  a  good  many  v'yages.  The 
cap'n  and  I  get  along  fust  rate.  He's  all  right,  Cap'n  Sears 
is,  /  tell  ye!" 


1 88  FAIR   HARBOR 


Mr.  Phillips  murmured  something  to  the  effect  that  he 
was  sure  of  it.  He  did  not  seem  very  sure  of  Judah.  Mr. 
Cahoon  did  not  notice  the  uncertainty,  he  pushed  his  hand 
nearer  to  the  visitor's. 

"I'm  real  glad  to  meet  you/'  he  said. 

Egbert  gingerly  took  the  proffered  hand,  moved  it  up  and 
down  once  and  then  dropped  it,  after  which  he  looked  at 
his  glove.  Judah  looked  at  it,  too. 

"Kind  of  chilly  outdoor  to-night,  is  it?"  he  asked. 
"Didn't  seem  so  to  me." 

Again  his  lodger  came  to  the  rescue. 

"Well,  Mr.  Phillips,"  he  said,  "you  gave  us  all  a  little 
surprise,  didn't  you?  Of  course  we  expected  you  in  a  gen 
eral  sort  of  way,  but  we  didn't  know  when  you  would  make 
port." 

Egbert  bowed.  "I  scarcely  knew  myself,"  he  said.  "My 
plans  were  somewhat  vague  and — ah — rather  hurriedly 
made,  naturally.  Of  course  my  great  sorrow,  my  bereave- 


He  paused,  sighed  and  then  brushed  the  subject  away 
with  a  wave  of  his  glove. 

"You  won't  mind,  I'm  sure,"  he  said,  "if  I  don't  dwell 
upon  that  just  now.  It  is  too  recent,  the  shock  is  too  great, 
I  really  cannot.  .  .  .  But  I  am  so  sorry  to  hear  of  your 
disability.  A  railway  wreck,  I  understand.  Outrageous 
carelessness,  no  doubt.  Really,  Captain  Kendrick,  one  cannot 
find  excuses  for  the  reckless  mismanagement  of  your  Ameri 
can  railways.  .  .  .  Why,  what  is  it?  Don't  you  agree  with 
me?" 

The  captain  had  looked  up  momentarily.  Now  he  was 
looking  down  again. 

"Don't  you  agree  with  me?"  repeated  Egbert.  "Surely 
you,  of  all  people,  should  not  excuse  their  recklessness." 

Sears  shook  his  head.  "Oh,  I  wasn't  tryin'  to,"  he  re 
plied.  "I  was  only  wonderin'  why  you  spoke  of  'em  as 
'your'  railroads.  They  aren't  mine,  you  know.  That  is, 
any  more  than  they  are  Judah's — or  yours — or  any  other 
American's.  No  such  luck." 


FAIR    HARBOR  189 


Mr.  Phillips  coughed,  smiled,  coughed  again,  and  then 
explained  that  he  had  used  the  word  'your'  without  thinking. 

"I  have  been  so  long  an — ah — shall  I  say  exile,  Captain 
Kendall,"  he  observed,  "that  I  have,  I  presume,  fallen  some 
what  into  the  European  habit  of  thinking  and — ah — speak 
ing.  Habit  is  a  peculiar  thing,  is  it  not?" 

Mr.  Cahoon,  intensely  interested  in  the  conversation,  evi 
dently  felt  it  his  duty  to  contribute  toward  it. 

"You're  right  there,  Mr.  Phillips,"  he  announced,  with 
emphasis.  "Don't  talk  to  me  about  habits !  When  a  man's 
been  to  sea  as  long's  I  have  he  runs  afoul  of  pretty  nigh 
every  kind  of  habit  there  is,  seems  so.  Why,  I  knew  a 
feller  one  time — down  to  Surinam  'twas — I  was  cook  and 
steward  aboard  the  old  Highflyer — and  this  feller — he  wan't 
a  white  man,  nor  he  wan't  all  nigger  nuther,  kind  of  in 
between,  one  of  them — er — er — octoreens,  that's  what  he  was 
— well,  this  feller  he  had  the  dumdest  habit.  JEvery  day  of 
his  life,  about  the  middle  of  the  dog  watch  he'd  up  and " 

"Judah" 

"Aye,  aye,  Cap'n  Sears?" 

"You'll  be  late  down  at  the  store,  won't  you?" 

"Hey?  Oh,  I  don't  care  how  late  I  be.  I  don't  know's 
I'm  so  dreadful  partic'lar  about  goin'  down  there  to-night, 
anyhow.  Don't  know  but  I'd  just  as  live  stay  here." 

"I'd  go." 

"Hey?     Oh,  I " 

"I'd  go,  if  I  were  you.  You  know  there's  likely  to  be  a 
good  deal  goin'  on." 

"Think  so,  do  you?"  Judah  was  evidently  on  the  fence. 

"Course,  I Well,  maybe  I  had  better,  come  to  think 

of  it.  Good  night,  Mr.  Phillips.  I'll  tell  you  about  that 
octoreen  feller  next  time  I  see  you.  So  long,  Cap'n  Sears. 
I'll  report  about,!'  with  a  wink,  "the  cacklin'  later:  Creepin'! 
it's  most  eight  now,  ain't  it?" 

He  hurried  out.  Egbert  looked1  rather  relieved.  He 
smiled  tolerantly. 

"Evidently  an  eccentric,  your— er — man,"  he  observed. 

"He  has  his  ways,  like  the  majority  of  us,  I  guess,"  de- 


190  FAIR    HARBOR 


clared  the  captain,  crisply.  "Underneath  he  is  as  square 
and  big-hearted  as  they  make.  And  he's  a  good  friend  of 
mine." 

"Oh,  yes ;  yes,  I'm  sure  of  it.     Captain  Kendall " 

"Kendrick,  not  Kendall." 

Mr.  Phillips  begged  pardon  for  the  mistake.  It  was  in 
excusable,  he  admitted.  He  had  heard  the  captain's  name 
mentioned  so  frequently  since  his  arrival  in  Bayport,  espe 
cially  by  Mrs.  Berry  and  her  daughter,  "so  favorably,  even 
enthusiastically  mentioned,"  that  he  certainly  should  have 
remembered  it.  "I  am  not  quite  myself,  I  fear,"  he  added. 
"My  recent  bereavement  and  the  added  shock  of  the  death 
of  my  dear  old  friend  the  judge  have  had  their  effect.  My 
nerves  are — well,  you  understand,  I  am  sure." 

He  made  a  lengthy  call.  He  talked  a  great  deal,  and  his 
conversation  was  always  interesting.  He  spoke  much  of  his 
dear  wife,  of  life  abroad,  of  Genoa  and  Leghorn,  ports  which 
the  captain  had  visited,  and  of  the  changes  in  Bayport  since 
his  last  sojourn  in  the  village.  But  he  said  almost  nothing 
concerning  his  plans  for  the  future,  and  of  the  Fair  Harbor 
very  little.  In  fact,  Sears  had  the  feeling  that  he  was  wait 
ing  for  him  to  talk  concerning  that  institution.  This  the 
captain  would  not  do  and,  at  last,  Mr.  Phillips  himself 
touched  lightly  upon  the  fringes  of  the  subject. 

"Do  you  find  your  duties  in  connection  with  the — ah — re 
treat  next  door  arduous,  Captain  Kendrick?"  he  inquired. 

"Eh?  ...  Oh,  no,  I  don't  know  as  I'd  call  'em  that, 
exactly." 

"I  imagine  not,  I  imagine  not.  You  are — you  are,  I 

gather,  a  sort  of — oh What  should  I  call  you,  captain  ; 

in  your  official  capacity,  you  know?" 

He  laughed  pleasantly.     Sears  smiled. 

"Give  it  up,"  he  replied.  "I  told  Elizabeth — Miss  Berry, 
I  mean — when  I  first  took  the  berth  that  I  scarcely  knew 
what  it  was." 

"Ha,  ha!  Yes,  I  can  imagine.  Miss  Berry — charming 
girl,  isn't  she,  captain — intimated  to  me  that  your  position 
was  somewhat — ah — general.  You  exercise  a  sort  of  super- 


FAIR    HARBOR  191 


vision  over  the  finances  and  management,  in  a  way,  do  you 
not?" 

"In  a  way,  yes." 

"Yes.  Of  course,  my  dear  sir,  you  understand  that  I  am 
not  unduly  curious.  I  don't  mean  to  be.  This — ah — Fair 
Harbor  was,  as  you  know,  very  dear  to  the  heart  of  Mrs. 
Phillips  and,  now  that  she  has  been  taken  from  me,  I  feel, 
of  course,  a  sense  of  trust,  of  sacred  responsibility.  We 
had  understood,  she  and  I,  that  our  dear  friend — Judge 
Knowles — was  in  supreme  charge — nominally,  I  mean ;  of 
course  Mrs.  Berry  was  in  actual  charge — and,  therefore,  I 
confess  to  a  natural  feeling  of — shall  I  say  surprise,  on 
learning  that  the  judge  had  appointed  another  person,  an 
understudy,  as  it  were?" 

"Well,  you  couldn't  be  any  more  surprised  than  I  was 
when  the  judge  asked  me  to  take  the  job.  And  Elizabeth 
and  her  mother  know  that  I  hesitated  considerable  before 
I  did  take  it.  Judge  Knowles  was  in  his  last  sickness,  he 
couldn't  attend  to  things  himself." 

Mr.  Phillips  raised  a  protesting  hand.  "Please  don't 
misunderstand  me,"  he  said.  "Don't,  I  beg  of  you,  think 
for  a  moment  that  I  am  objecting  to  the  judge's  action,  or 
even  criticizing  it.  It  was  precisely  the  thing  he  should 
have  done,  what  Mrs.  Phillips  and  I  would 'have  wished  him 
to  do.  And  as  for  his  choice  of — ah — appointee " 

Captain  Sears  interrupted.  "As  to  that,"  he  said,  "you 
can  criticize  as  much  as  you  please.  You  can't  object  any 
more  than  I  did  when  me  made  me  the  offer." 

The  protesting  hand  was  again  raised.  "Criticism  or  ob 
jection  was  the  very  farthest  from  my  mind,  I  assure  you," 
Egbert  declared.  "I  was  about  to  say  that  Judge  Knowles 
showed  his  usual — ah — acumen  when  he  selected  a  man  as 
well  known  and  highly  esteemed  as  yourself,  sir.  The  men 
tion  of  the  name  of  Captain  Kendall " 

"Kendrick" 

"Kendrick,  of  course.  I  apologize  once  more.  But,  if 
you  will  permit  me  to  say  so",  a  man  as  well  and  favorably 


I92  FAIR    HARBOR 


known  to  us  all  as  you  are,  sir,  is  certainly  the  ideal  occu 
pant  of  the — ah — place." 

"Thanks.  You  knew  of  me,  then?  I  don't  think  you 
and  I  have  ever  met  before,  have  we?" 

"No ;  no,  I  believe  I  have  never  before  had  the  pleasure." 

"Thanks.  I  was  pretty  sure  I  hadn't.  I've  been  away 
from  Bayport  a  good  deaL  I  wasn't  here  when  you  and 
your  wife  came  back — about  five  years  ago,  wasn't  it?  And, 
of  course,  I  didn't  know  you  when  you  used  to  live  here. 
Let's  see;  you  used  to  teach  singin'-school,  didn't  you?" 

This  question  was  asked  in  the  most  casual  fashion.  Mr. 
Phillips  did  not  answer  at  once.  He  coughed,  changed  his 
position,  and  then  smiled  graciously. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "Yes,  I — I  did  something  of  the  sort, 
for  a  time.  Music  has  always  been  a — one  might  call  it  a — 
ah — hobby  of  mine.  But,  regarding  your  duties  as — well, 
whatever  those  duties  are,  Captain  Kendrick :  You  say  they 
are  not  arduous.  And  your — ah — compensation?  That,  I 
understand,  is  not  large?  Pardon  my  referring  to  it,  but  as 
Mrs.  Phillips  was  the  owner  and  benefactress  of  the  Fair 
Harbor,  and  as  I  am — shall  I  say  heir — to  her  interests, 
why,  perhaps  my  excuse  for  asking  for  information  is — ah — 
a  reasonable  one." 

He  paused,  and  with  another  smile  and  wave  of  the  hand, 
awaited  his  host's  reply.  Sears  looked  at  him. 

"I  guess  you  know  what  my  wages  are,  Mr.  Phillips,"  he 
observed.  "Don't  you?" 

"Why— why— ah— ah " 

"Didn't  Cordelia  tell  you?  She  knows.  So  does  Eliza 
beth." 

"Why — why,  Mrs.  Berry  did  mention  a  figure,  I  believe. 
I  seem  to  recall — ah — ah — something." 

"If  you  remember  fifteen  hundred  a  year,  you  will  have 
it  right.  That  is  the  amount  I'm  paid  for  bein'  in  general 
command  over  there.  As  you  say,  it  isn't  very  large,  but 
perhaps  it's  large  enough  for  what  I  do." 

"Oh — ah,    don't   misunderstand    me,    Captain    Kendrick, 


FAIR    HARBOR  193 


please  don't.  I  was  not  questioning  the  amount  of  your 
salary." 

"Wasn't  you  ?     My  mistake.    I  thought  you  was." 

"No ;  indeed  no.  My  only  feeling  in  regard  to  it  was  its 
— ah — trifling  size.  It — pardon  me,  but  it  seemed  such  a 
small  sum  for  you  to  accept,  a  man  of  your  attainments." 

"My  attainments,  as  you  call  'em,  haven't  got  me  very 
far.  I'm  a  poor  man  and,  just  now  at  any  rate,  I'm  a 
cripple,  a  wreck  on  a  lee  shore.  Fifteen  hundred  a  year 
isn't  so  small  to  me." 

Mr.  Phillips  apologized.  He  was  sorry  he  had  referred 
to  the  subject.  But  the  captain,  he  was  sure,  understood  his 
motive  for  asking,  and,  now  that  so  much  had  been  said, 
might  he  say  just  a  word  more. 

"Our  dear  Cordelia — Mrs.  Berry — "  he  went  on,  "inti 
mated  that  your — ah — compensation  was  paid  by  the  judge, 
himself." 

"Yes,  it  was.  Judge  Knowles  paid  it  with  his  own  money. 
It  doesn't  come  out  of  the  Fair  Harbor  funds." 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course,  of  course.  The  judge's  interest  in 
my  beloved  wife's — ah — whims — perhaps  that  is  too  frivol 
ous  a  word — was  extraordinarily  fine.  But  now  the  judge 
has  passed  on." 

"Yes.    More's  the  pity." 

"I  heartily  agree  with  you,  it  is  a  great  pity.  An  Irre 
parable  loss.  .  .  .  But  he  has  gone." 

"Yes." 

Just  here  the  dialogue  came  to  a  peculiar  halt.  Mr.  Phil 
lips  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  his  companion  to  say  some 
thing  and  the  captain  to  be  waiting  for  Phillips  himself  to 
say  it  first.  As  a  consequence  neither  said  it.  When  the 
conversation  was  resumed  it  was  once  more  of  a  general 
nature.  It  was  not  until  just  beyond  the  end  of  the  call 
that  the  Fair  Harbor  was  again  mentioned.  And,  as  at 
first,  it  was  the  caller  who  led  up  to  it. 

"Captain  Kendrick,"  he  observed,  "you  are,  like  myself, 
a  man  of  the  world,  a  man  of  wide  experience." 

This  was  given  forth  as  a  positive  statement,  not  a  ques- 


194  FAIR    HARBOR 


tion,    yet   he   seemed    to    expect   a    reply.      Sears    obliged. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  demurred. 

"Pardon  me,  but  I  do.  I  am  accustomed  to  judge  persons 
and  characters,  and  I  think  I  may  justly  pride  myself  on 
making  few  mistakes.  From  what  I  had  heard  I  expected 
to  find  you  a  man  of  the  world,  a  man  of  experience  and 
judgment.  Judge  Knowles'  selection  of  you  as  the — ah — 
temporary  head  of  the  Fair  Harbor  would  have  indicated 
that,  of  course,  but,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so,  this 
interview  has  confirmed  it." 

Again  he  paused,  as  if  expecting  a  reply.  And  again  the 
captain  humored  him. 

"Much  obliged,"  he  said. 

The  Phillips  hand  waved  the  thanks  away.  There  was 
another  perceptible  wait.  Then  said  Egbert,  "Captain  Ken- 
drick,  as  one  man  of  the  world  to  another,  what  do  you 
think  of  the — ah — institution  next  door?" 

Sears  looked  at  him.  "What  do  I  think  of  it?"  he  re 
peated. 

"Yes,  exactly..  It  was,  as  you  know,  the  darling  of  my 
dear  wife's  heart.  When  she  loaned  her — shall  we  say  her 
ancestral  home,  and — ah — money  to  the  purpose  she  firmly 
believed  the  Fair  Harbor  for  Mariners'  Women  to  be  an 
inspiration  for  good.  She  believed  its  founding  to  be  the 
beginning  of  a  great  work.  Is  it  doing  that  work,  do  you 
think?  In  your  opinion,  sir,  is  it  a  success?" 

Captain  Sears  slowly  stroked  his  close-cropped  beard. 
What  was  the  man  driving  at  ? 

"Why — I  don't  know  as  I  know  exactly  what  you  mean 
by  success,"  he  hesitated.  "It's  takin'  care  of  its — er — 
boarders  and  it's  makin'  a  home  for  '-em.  That  is  what 
your  wife  wanted  it  to  do,  didn't  she?" 

"Oh,  yes,  yes,  quite  so.  But  that  is  not  precisely  what  I 
mean.  Put  it  this  way,  sir:  In  your  opinion,  as  a  man  of 
affairs " 

"Here,  here,  just  a  minute.  I'm  not  a  man  of  affairs. 
I'm  a  broken-down  sea  cap'n  on  shore,  that's  all." 

Again  the  upraised  hand.     "I  know  what  you  are,  Cap- 


FAIR    HARBOR  195 


tain  Kendrick,"  said  Egbert.  "That,  if  you  will  permit  me 
to  say  so,  is  why  I  am  asking  your  opinion.  The  success  of 
a — ah — proposition  depends,  as  I  see  it,  upon  the  amount  of 
success  achieved  in  proportion  to  the  amount  of  energy, 
capital — ah — whatnot  invested.  Now,  considering  the  sum 
needed  to  support  the  Fair  Harbor — paid,  as  doubtless  you 
know,  Captain  Kendrick,  from  the  interest  of  an  amount 
loaned  and  set  aside  by  my  dear  wife  some  years  ago — 
considering  that  sum,  I  say,  added  to  the  amount  sunk,  or 
invested,  in  the  house,  land,  furnishings,  et  cetera,  is  it  your 
opinion  that  the  institution's  success  is  a  sufficient  return? 
Or,  might  not  the  same  sums,  put  into  other — ah — charities, 
reap  larger  rewards?  Rewards  in  the  shape  of  good  to  our 
fellow  men  and  women,  Captain  Kendrick?  What  do  you 
think?" 

Sears  crossed  his  knees. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said. 

"Of  course,  of  course.  One  does  not  know.  But  it  is  a 
question  to  be  considered,  is  it  not?" 

"Why — why,  yes,  maybe.  Do  I  understand  that  you  are 
thinkin'  of  givin'  up  the  Fair  Harbor?  Doin'  away  with 
it?" 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no !"  Mr.  Phillips  pushed  the  surmise  deeper 
into  the  background  with  each  negative.  "I  am  not  con 
sidering  anything  of  that  sort,  Captain  Kendrick." 

"Well — humph!  My  mistake  again.  I  thought  you  just 
said  you  were  considerin'  it." 

"Only  as  a  question,  Captain,  only  as  a  question.  While 
my  wife  lived,  of  course,  the  Fair  Harbor — her  Fair  Har 
bor — was  a  thing  fixed,  immovable.  Now  that  she  has  been 
taken  from  me,  it  devolves  upon  me,  the  care  of  her  trusts, 
her  benefactions." 

"Yes.     So  you  said,  Mr.  Phillips." 

"I  believe  I  did  say  so.  Yes.  And  therefore,  as  I  see  it, 
a  part  of  that  trust  is  to  make  sure  that  every  penny  of  her — 
ah — charity  is  doing  the  greatest  good  to  the  greatest  num 
ber." 


196  FAIR    HARBOR 


"And  you  think  the  Fair  Harbor  isn't  gettin'  its  money's 
worth  ?" 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no.  I  don't  say  that.  I  don't  say  that  at 
all.  I  am  sure  it  must  be.  I  am  merely  considering,  that 
is  all,  merely  considering.  .  .  .  Well,  Captain  Kendrick,  I 
must  go.  We  shall  see  each  other  often,  I  trust.  I  have — 
ah — a  suite  at  the  Central  House  and  if  you  will  do  me  the 
honor  of  calling  I  shall  greatly  appreciate  it.  Pray  drop  in 
at  any  time,  sir.  Don't,  I  beg  of  you,  stand  upon  cere 
mony." 

Sears  promised  that  he  would  not.  He*  was  finding  it 
hard  to  keep  from  smiling.  A  "suite"  at  the  Central  House, 
Bayport's  one  hostelry,  tickled  him.  He  knew  the  rooms  at 
that  hit  or  miss  tavern. 

"Good-by,  Captain  Kendrick,"  said  Mr.  Phillips.  "Upon 
one  thing  I  feel  sure  you  may  congratulate  yourself,  that  is 
that  your  troubles  and  petty  annoyances  as — ah — manager 
of  the  Fair  Harbor  are  practically  over." 

"Oh,"  observed  the  captain. 

"Yes.  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  relieve  you  of  that  care 
very  shortly.  And  the  sooner  the  better,  I  presume  you 
are  saying.  Yes  ?  Ha,  ha !" 

"Thanks.    Coin'  to  appoint  somebody  else,  eh?" 

"Oh,  no,  no !  My  dear  sir !  Why,  I — I  really — I  thought 
you  understood.  I  mean  to  say  simply  that,  while  I  am 
here  in  person,  and  as  long  as  I  am  here,  I  shall  endeavor 
to  look  after  the  matters  myself  and  consequently  relieve 
you,  that  is  all.  Judge  Knowles  appointed  you  and  paid 
you — a  very  wise  and  characteristic  thing  »for  him  to  do ; 
but  he,  poor  man,  is  dead.  One  could  scarcely  expect  you  to 
go  on  performing  your  duties  gratuitously.  That  is  why  I 
congratulate  you  upon  the  lifting  of  the  burden  from  your 
shoulders." 

"Oh,  yes.    Um-hm.     I  see.     Thank  you,  Mr.  Phillips." 

"I  should  thank  you,  sir,  for  all  you  -have  already  done.  I 
do  sincerely.  .  .  .  Oh,  by  the  way,  Captain  Kendrick,  per 
haps  it  would  be  as  well  that  nothing  be  said  concerning 
this  little  business  talk  of  ours.  One  knows  how  trifles 


FAIR   HARBOR  197 


are  distorted,  mole  hills  made  mountains,  and  all  that,  in 
communities  like — well,  like  dear  old  Bayport.  We  love  our 
Bayporters,  bless  them,  but  they  will  talk.  Ha,  ha!  So, 
captain,  if  you  will  consider  our  little  chat  confidential " 

"I  will." 

"Thank  you,  sir,  thank  you.  And  we  shall  see  each  other 
frequently.  I  am  counting1  upon  it.  Au  revoir,  Captain 
Kendrick.  Don't  rise,  I  beg  of  you." 

He  was  gone,  the  door  closed  behind  him.  Sears  rilled 
his  pipe,  lighted  it,  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair  to  review 
and  appraise  his  impressions. 

The  appraisal  was  not  altogether  satisfactory.  It  was 
easy  to  say  that  he  did  not  like  Egbert  Phillips,  for  it  was 
the  truth — he  did  not  like  him.  But  to  affirm  truthfully 
that  that  dislike  was  founded  upon  anything  more  substan 
tial  than  prejudice  due  to  Judge  Knowles'  detestation  was 
not  so  easy.  The  question  which  continually  intruded  was 
this :  Suppose  he  had  met  Mr.  Phillips  for  the  first  time, 
never  having  heard  of  him  before — would  he  have  disliked 
and  distrusted  him  under  those  circumstances?  He  could 
not  be  quite  sure. 

For,  leaving  aside  Egbert's  airy  condescension  and  his — 
to  the  captain's  New  England  mind — overdone  politeness, 
there  was  not  so  much  fault  to  be  found  with  his  behavior 
or  words  during  the  interview  just  ended.  He  had  asked 
questions  concerning  the  Fair  Harbor,  had  hinted  at  the 
possibility  of  its  discontinuance,  had  more  than  hinted  at 
the  dropping  of  Kendrick  as  its  manager.  Well — always 
bearing  in  mind  the  fact  that  he  was  ignorant  of  his  wife's 
action  which  gave  the  Seymour  house  and  land  to  the  Fair 
Harbor  and  gave,  not  loaned,  the  money  for  its  maintenance 
—bearing  in  mind  the  fact  that  Egbert  Phillips  believed 
himself  the  absolute  owner  of  all,  with  undisputed  authority 
to  do  as  he  pleased  with  it — then  .  .  .  Well,  then  Captain 
Sears  was  obliged  to  admit  that  he,  himself,  might  have 
questioned  and  hinted  very  much  as  his  visitor  had  done. 
And  as  for  the  condescension  and  the  "manner" — these  were, 


198  FAIR    HARBOR 


after  all,  not  much  more  than  eccentricities,  and  developed, 
very  likely,  during  his  life  abroad. 

Lobelia  Phillips5  will  wouH  be  opened  and  read  soon, 
probably  at  once.  Whew!  Sears  whistled  as  he  thought 
of  the  staggering  disillusionment  which  was  coming  to  the 
widower.  How  would  4ie  take  it?  Was  Judge  Knowles 
right  in  his  belief  that  the  rest  of  the  Seymour  inheritance 
had  been  wasted  and  lost?  If  so,  the  elegant  personage 
who  had  just  bowed  'himself  out  of  the  Minot  kitchen  would 
be  in  a  bad  way  indeed.  Sears  was  sorry  for  him. 

And  yet  he  did  not  like  the  man.  No,  he  did  not.  .  .  . 
And  he  did  distrust  him. 

Judah  came  back  from  his  sojourn  at  the  store  brimful 
of  talk  and  chuckles.  As  he  had  prophesied,  all  Bayport 
had  heard  of  the  arrival  of  the  great  man  and  all  Bayport 
was  discussing  him.  He  had  the  finest  rooms  at  the  Central 
House.  He  had  three  trunks — count  them — three!  Not  to 
mention  bags  and  a  leather  hat  box.  He  had  given  the 
driver  of  the  depot  wagon  a  -dollar  over  and  above  his  regu 
lar  charge.  He  remembered  Eliphalet  Bassett  the  first  time 
he  saw  him,  and  called  him  by  name. 

There  was  a  lot  more  of  this,  but  Sears  paid  little  atten 
tion  to  it.  Judah  summed  it  all  up  pretty  well  in  his  final 
declaration,  given  as  his  lodger  was  leaving  the  kitchen  for 
the  "spare  stateroom." 

"By  Henry!"  declared  Judah,  who  seemed  rather  dis 
gusted,  "I  never  heard  such  a  powwowin'  over  one  man  in 
my  life.  Up  to  'Liphalet's  'twan't  nothin'  but  'Egbert  Phil 
lips/  'Egbert  Phillips/  till  you'd  think  'twas  a  passel  of 
poll-parrots  all  mockin'  each  other.  Simeon  Ryder  had 
been  down  to  deacon's  meetin'  in  the  Orthodox  vestry  and, 
nigh's  I  can  find  out,  'twas  just  the  same  down  there.  'Cord- 
in*  to  Sim's  tell  they  talked  about  the  Lord's  affairs  for  ten 
minutes  and  about  this  Egg  man's  for  forty." 

"But  why?"  queried  the  captain.  "He  isn't  the  only  fel 
low  that  has  been  away  from  Bayport  and  come  back  again." 

Mr.  Cahoon  shook  his  head.  "I  know  it,"  he  admitted, 
"but  none  of  the  rest  ever  had  quite  so  much  fuss  made 


FAIR    HARBOR  199 


over  'em.  I  cal'late,  maybe,  it's  on  account  of  the  way  he's 
been  led  up  to,  as  you  might  say.  I  went  one  time  to  a  kind 
of  show  place  in  New  York,  Barnum's  Museum  'twas. 
There  was  a  great  sign  outdoor  sayin',  'Come  on  aboard  and 
see  the  White  Whale/  or  somethin'  similar.  Well,  I'd  seen 
about  every  kind  of  a  whale  but  a  white  one,  so  I  cal'lated 
maybe  I'd  might  as  well  spend  a  quarter  and  see  that. 
There  was  a  great  big  kind  of  tank  place  full  of  water  and 
a  whole  passel  of  folks  hangin'  around  the  edge  of  it  with 
their  mouths  open,  gawpin'  at  nothin' — nothin'  but  the  water, 
that's  all  there  was  to  see.  And  a  man  up  on  a  kind  of 
platform  he  was  preachin'  a  sort  of  sermon,  wavin'  his 
arms  and  hollerin'  about  how  rare  and  scurce  white  whales 
was,  and  how  the  museum  folks  had  to  scour  all  creation 
afore  they  got  this  one,  and  about  how  the  round  heads  of 
Europe " 

"Crowned  heads,  wasn't  it,  Judah?" 

"Hey  ?  I  don't  know,  maybe  so.  Cabbage  heads  it  ought 
to  have  been,  'cordin'  to  my  notion.  Well,  anyhow,  'twas 
some  kind  of  Europe  heads,  and  they  had  all  pretty  nigh 
broke  the  necks  belongin'  to  'em  gettin'  to  see  this  whale, 
and  how  lucky  we  was  because  we  could  see  it  for  the  small 
sum  of  twenty-five  cents,  and  so  on,  and  so  on — until  all 
hands  of  us  was  just  kind  of  on  tiptoe,  as  you  might  say. 
And  then,  all  to  once,  the  water  in  the  tank  kind  of  riz  up, 
you  know,  and  somethin'  white — might  have  been  the  broad 
side  of  a  barn  for  all  we  had  time  to  see  of  it — showed  for 
a  jiffy,  there  was  a  'Woosh,'  and  the  white  thing  went  under 
again.  And  that  was  all.  The  man  said  we  was  now  able 
to  tell  our  children  that  we'd  seen  a  white  whale  and  that 
the  critter  would  be  up  to  breathe  again  in  about  an  hour, 
or  week  after  next,  or  some  such  time.  .  .  .  Anyhow,  what 
I'm  try  in'  to  get  at  is  that  'twan't  the  whale  itself  that 
counted  so  much  as  'twas  the  way  that  preachin'  man  led  up 
to  him.  This  Egbert  he's  been  preached  about  and  guessed 
about  and  looked  for'ard  to  so  long  that  all  Bayport's  been 
on  tiptoe,  like  us  folks  around  that  museum  tank.  .  .  . 


200  FAIR    HARBOR 


Well,  this  Phillips  whale  has  made  a  big  'Woosh'  in  town 
so  fur.  Can  he  keep  it  up?  That's  what  I'm  wonderin'." 

The  sensation  kept  up  for  the  next  day  and  the  next  at 
least,  and  there  were  no  signs  of  its  abating.  Over  at  the 
Fair  Harbor  Captain  Sears*  found  himself  playing  a  very 
small  second  fiddle.  Miss  Snowden,  Mrs.  Brackett  and 
their  following,  instead  of  putting  themselves  out  to  smile 
upon  the  captain  and  to  chat  with  him,  ignored  him  almost 
altogether,  or,  if  they  did  speak,  spoke  only  of  Mr.  Phillips. 
He  was  the  most  entertaining  man,  so  genteel,  his  conver 
sation  was  remarkable,  he  had  traveled  everywhere. 

Mrs.  Berry,  of  course,  was  in  ecstasies  concerning  him. 
He  was  her  ideal  of  a  gentleman,  she  said,  so  aristocratic. 
"So  like  the  men  I  associated  with  in  the  old  days,"  she 
said.  "Of  course,"  she  added,  "he  is  an  old  friend.  Dear 
'Belia  and  he  were  my  dearest  friends,  you  know,  Captain 
Kendrick." 

The  captain  was  curious  to  learn  Elizabeth's  opinion  of 
him.  He  found  that  opinion  distinctly  favorable. 

"He  is  different,"  she  said.  "Different,  I  mean,  from 
any  one  I  ever  met.  And  at  first  I  thought  him  conceited. 
But  he  isn't  really,  he  is  just — well,  different.  I  think  I 
shall  like  him." 

Sears  smiled.  "If  you  don't  you  will  be  rather  lonesome 
here  in  the  Harbor,  I  judge,"  he  observed. 

She  looked  at  him  quickly.  "You  don't  like  him,  do  you, 
Cap'n  Kendrick?"  she  said.  "Why?" 

"Why— why,  I  don't  say  I  don't  like  him,  Elizabeth." 

"No,  you  don't  say  it,  but  you  look  it.  I  didn't  think 
you  took  sudden  dislikes,  Cap'n.  It  doesn't  seem  like  you, 
somehow." 

He  could  not  explain,  and  he  felt  that  he  had  disappointed 
her. 

On  the  third  day  the  news  came  that  Mr.  Phillips  had 
left  town,  gone  suddenly,  so  Judah  said. 

"He  took  the  afternoon  train  and  bought  a  ticket  for 
Boston,  so  they  tell  me,"  declared  the  latter.  "He's  left  his 
dunnage  at  the  Central  House,  so  he's  comin'  back,  I  cal'- 


FAIR    HARBOR  201 


late ;  but  nobody  knows  where  he's  gone,  nor  why  he  went. 
Went  over  to  Orham  this  mornin' — hired  a  horse-'n'-team 
down  to  the  livery  stable  and  went — come  back  about  one 
o'clock,  wouldn't  speak  to  nobody,  went  up  to  his  room, 
never  et  no  dinner,  and  then  set  sail  for  Boston  on  the  up 
train.  Cur'us,  ain't  it?  Where  do  you  cal'late  likely  he's 
gone,  Cap'n  Sears?" 

"Give  it  up,  Judah.  And,"  speaking  quickly  in  order  to 
head  off  the  question  he  saw  the  Cahoon  lips  already  form 
ing,  "I  can't  guess  why  he's  gone,  either." 

But,  although  he  did  not  say  so,  he  could  have  guessed 
why  Mr.  Phillips  had  gone  to  Orham.  Bradley,  the  Orham 
lawyer,  had  written  the  day  before  to  say  that  the  will  of 
Lobelia  Phillips  would  be  opened  and  read  at  his  office  on 
Thursday  morning.  And  this  was  Thursday.  Bradley  had 
suggested  Sears's  coming  over  to  be  present  at  the  reading 
of  the  will.  "As  you  are  so  deeply  interested  in  the  Fair 
Harbor,"  he  wrote,  "I  should  think  you  might — or  ought  to 
— be  on  hand.  I  don't  believe  Phillips  will  object." 

But  the  captain  had  not  accepted  the  invitation.  Know 
ing,  as  he  did,  the  disappointment  which  was  in  store  for; 
Egbert,  he  had  no  wish  to  see  the  blow  fall.  So  he  re 
mained  at  home,  but  that  afternoon  Bradley  himself  drove 
into  the  Minot  yard. 

"I  just  stopped  for  a  minute,  Cap'n,"  he  said.  "I  had 
some  other  business  in  town  here ;  that  brought  me  over, 
but  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  we  opened  that  will  this  morn- 
ing." 

Sears  looked  a  question.     "Well?"  he  queried. 

Bradley  nodded.  "It  was  just  about  as  we  thought,  and 
as  the  judge  said,"  he  declared.  "The  papers  were  there, 
of  course,  telling  of  the  gift  of  the  fifty  thousand  to  the 
Harbor,  of  the  gift  of  the  land  and  house,  everything. 
There  was  one  other  legacy,  a  small  one,  and  then  she  left 
alt  the  rest,  'stocks,  bonds,  securities,  'personal  effects  and 
cash'  to  her  beloved  husband,  Egbert  Phillips.  That's  all 
there  was  to  it,  Kendrick.  Short  but  sweet,  eh?" 


202  FAIR    HARBOR 


Sears  nodded.  "Sweet  enough,"  he  agreed.  "And  how 
did  the  beloved  husband  take  it?" 

"Well  .  .  .  well,  he  was  pretty  nasty.  In  fact  he  was 
about  as  nasty  as  anybody  could  be.  He  went  white  as  a 
sheet  and  then  red  and  then,  white  again.  I  didn't  know, 
for  a  minute  or  two,  what  was  going  to  happen,  didn't 
know  but  what  I  should  have  a  fight  on  my  hands.  How 
ever,  I  didn't.  I  don't  think  he's  the  fighting  kind,  not  that 
kind  of  a  fight.  He  just  took  it  out  in  being  nasty.  Said 
of  course  he  should  contest  the  gift,  hinted  at  undue  influ 
ence,  spoke  of  thieves  and  swindlers — not  naming  'em, 
though — and  then,  when  I  suggested  that  he  had  better 
think  it  over  before  he  said  too  much,  pulled  up  short  and 
walked  out  of  the  office.  Yes,  he  was  pretty  nasty.  But, 
honestly,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  when  I  think  it  over,  I  don't 
know  that  he  was  any  nastier  than  I,  or  any  other  fellow, 
might  have  been  under  the  circumstances.  It  was  a  smash 
between  the  eyes  for  him,  that's  what  it  was.  Met  him, 
have  you?" 

"Yes." 

"What  do  you  think  of  him?" 

"I  don't  know— yet." 

"Neither  do  I.     He's  a  polite  chap,  isn't  he?" 

"No  doubt  about  that.  Say,  Bradley,  do  you  think  he's 
got  much  left  of  the  'stocks,  bonds/  and  all  the  rest  that 
the  will  talked  about?" 

"I  give  it  up.  Of  course  we  shall  talk  about  that  by  and 
by,  I  suppose,  but  we  haven't  yet.  You  know  what  Judge 
Knowles  declared ;  he  was  perfectly  sure  that  there  wouldn't 
be  anything  left — that  this  fellow  and  Lobelia  had  thrown 
away  every  loose  penny  of  old  Seymour's  money.  And,  of 
course,  he  prophesied  that  this  Egbert  man  would  be  back 
here  as  soon  as  his  wife  died  to  sell  the  Fair  Harbor,  ship  and 
cargo,  and  get  the  money  for  them.  The  biggest  satisfaction 
the  old  judge  got  out  of  life  along  toward  the  last  of  it 
was  in  knowing  that  he  and  Lobelia  had  fixed  things  so 
that  that  couldn't  be  done.  He  certainly  hated  Phillips,  the 
judge  did." 


FAIR    HARBOR  203 


"Um-hm.    But  he  might  have  been  prejudiced." 

"Yes.     Sometimes  I  wonder  if  he  wasn't." 

'Tell  me,  Bradley :  Did  you  know  this  Phillips  man  when 
he  was  skipper  of  the  singin'  school  here  in  Bayport?  Be 
fore  he  married*  Lobelia  ?" 

"No.  Nor  I  didn't  meet  him  when  he  and  his  wife  were 
on  here  the  last  time.  I  was  up  in  the  State  House  serving 
out  my  two  terms  as  county  representative." 

"I  see.  .  .  .  Oh  !  You  spoke  of  Lobelia's  leavin'  another 
legacy.  Who  was  that  to?  If  it  isn't  a  secret." 

"It  is,  so  far.  But  it  won't  be  very  long.  She  left  five 
thousand,  in  cash  and  in  Judge  Knowles's  care,  for  Cor 
delia  Berry  over  here  at  the  Harbor.  She  and  Lobelia  were 
close  friends,  you  know.  Cordelia  is  to  have  it  free  and 
clear,  but  I  am  to  invest  it  for  her.  She  doesn't  know  her 
good  luck  yet.  I  am  going  over  now  to  tell  her  about 
it.  ...  Oh,  by  the  way,  Cap'n :  Judge  Knowles's  nephew, 
the  man  from  California,  is  expecting  to  reach  Bayport  next 
Sunday.  He  can't  stay  fiut  a  little  while,  and  so  I  shall 
have  to  hurry  up  that  will  and  the  business  connected  with 
it.  Can  you  come  over  to  my  office  Monday  about  ten?" 

"Why,  I  suppose  likely  I  could,  but  what  do  you  want 
me  for?" 

"I  don't,  except  in  the  general  way  of  always  wanting  to 
see  you,  Cap'n.  But  Judge  Knowles  wanted  you  espe 
cially." 

"He  did !     Wanted  me?" 

"Yes.  Seems  so.  He  left  a  memorandum  of  those  he 
wanted  on  hand  when  his  will  was  read.  You  are  one,  and 
Elizabeth  Berry  is  another.  Will  you  come?" 

"Why — why,  yes,  I  suppose  so.  But  what  in  the 
world " 

"I  don't  know.  But  I  imagine  we'll  all  know  Monday. 
I'll  look  for  you  then,  Cap'n." 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE  reading  of  the  Knowles  will,  so  Bradley  had  said, 
was  to  take  place  at  the  lawyer's  office  in  Orham  on 
Monday.  It  was  Friday  when  Bradley  called  at  the 
Minot  place,  and  on  Saturday  morning  Sears  and  Elizabeth 
discussed  the  matter. 

"Mr.  Bradley  said  your  name  was  on  the  list  of  those 
the  judge  asked  to  be  on  hand  when  the  will  was  read,"  said 
the  captain.  "He  asked  me  not  to  speak  about  the  will  to 
outsiders,  an-d  of  course  I  haven't,  but  you're  not  an  out 
sider.  You're  goin'  over,  I  suppose?'* 

She  hesitated  slightly.  "Why,  yes,"  she  said.  "I  think  I 
shall." 

"Yes.     Yes,  I  thought  you  would." 

"I  shall  go  because  the  judge  seems  to  have  wished  me  to 
be  there,  but  why  I  can't  imagine.  Can  you,  Cap'n  Ken- 
drick?" 

Remembering  his  last  conversation  with  Judge  Knowles, 
Sears  thought  he  might  at  least  guess  a  possible  reason,  but 
he  did  not  say  so. 

"We're  both  interested  in  the  Fair  Harbor,"  he  observed. 
"And  we  know  how  concerned  the  judge  was  with  that." 

She  nodded.  "Yes,"  she  admitted.  "Still  I  don't  see  why 
mother  was  not  asked  if  that  was  it.  You  are  going  over, 
of  course?" 

"Why — yes,  I  shall.     Bradley  seemed  to  want  me  to." 

That  was  all,  at  the  time.  The  next  day,  however,  Eliza 
beth  again  mentioned  the  subject.  It  was  in  the  afternoon, 
church  and  dinner  were  over,  and  Sears  was  strolling  along 
the  path  below  the  Fair  Harbor  garden  plots.  He  could 
walk  with  less  difficulty  and  with  almost  no  pain  now,  but 
he  could  not  walk  far.  The  Eyrie  was,  for  a  wonder,  unoc- 

204 


FAIR    HARBOR  205 


cupied,  so  he  limped  up  to  it  and  sat  down  upon  the  bench 
inside  to  rest.  This  was  the  favorite  haunt  of  the  more  ro 
mantic  Fair  Harbor  inmates,  Miss  Snowden  and  Mrs.  Chase 
especially,  but  they  were  not  there  just  then,  although  a 
book,  Barriers  Burned  Away,  by  E.  P.  Roe,  lay  upon 
the  bench,  a  cardboard  marker  with  the  initials  "E.  S."  in 
cross-stitch,  between  the  leaves.  When  the  captain  heard 
a  step  approaching  the  summer-house,  he  judged  that  El 
vira  was  returning  to  reclaim  her  "Barriers."  But  it  was 
not  Elvira  who  entered  the  Eyrie,  it  was  Elizabeth  Berry. 

She  was  surprised  to  see  him.  "Why,  Cap'n  Sears !"  she 
exclaimed.  "I  didn't  expect  to  find  you  here.  I  was  afraid 
— that  is,  I  did  rather  think  I  might  find  Elvira,  but  not  you. 
I  didn't  know  you  had  the  Eyrie  habit." 

He  smiled.  "I  haven't,"  he  said.  "That  is,  it  isn't  chronic 
yet.  I  didn't  know  you  had  it,  either." 

"Oh,  I  haven't.  But  I  was  rather  tired,  and  I  wanted  to 
be  alone,  and  so " 

"And  so  you  took  a  chance.  Well,  you  came  at  just  the 
right  time.  I  was  just  about  gettin'  under  way." 

He  rose,  but  she  detained  him.  "Don't  go,"  she  begged. 
"When  I  said  I  wanted  to  be  alone  I  didn't  mean  it  exactly. 
I  meant  I  wanted  to  be  away  from — some  people.  You  are 
not  one  of  them." 

He  was  pleased,  and  showed  it.  "You're  sure  of  that?" 
he  asked. 

"Of  course.  You  know  I  am.  Do  sit  down  and  talk. 
Talk  about  anything  except — well,  except  Bayport  gossip 
and  Fair  Harbor  squabbles  and  bills  and — oh,  that  sort  of 
thing.  Talk  about  something  away  from  Bayport,  miles 
and  miles  away.  I  feel  just  now  as  if  I  should  like  to  be — 
to  be  on  board  a  ship  sailing  .  .  .  sailing." 

She  smiled  wistfully  as  she  said  it.  The  captain  was 
seized  with  an  intense  conviction  that  he  should  like  to  be 
with  her  on  that  same  ship,  to  sail  on  and  on  indefinitely. 
The  kind  of  ship  or  its  destination  would  not  matter  in 
the  least,  the  only  essentials  were  that  she  and  he  were  to 
be  on  board,  and  .  .  .  Humph!  His  brain  must  be  soft- 


206  FAIR    HARBOR 


erring.    Who  did  he  think  he  was:   a  young  man  again  ?- 
George  Kent?    He  came  out  of  the  clouds. 

"Yes,"  he  observed,  dryly,  "I  know.  I  get  that  same 
feelin*  every  once  in  a  while.  I  should  rather  like  to  walk 
a  deck  again,  myself." 

She  understood  instantly.  That  was  one  of  the  fascina 
tions  of  this  girl,  she  always  seemed  to  understand.  A  flash 
of  pity  came  into  her  eyes.  Impulsively  she  laid  a  hand  on 
his  coat  sleeve. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said.  "I'm  so  sorry.  I  realize 
how  hard  it  must  be  for  you,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  A  man  who 
has  been  where  you  have  been  and  seen  what  you  have 
seen.  .  .  .  Yes,  and  done  what  you  have  done." 

He  shrugged.    "I  haven't  done  much,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  have.  I  have  heard  so  many  stones  about 
you  and  your  ships  and  the  way  you  have  handled  them. 
There  was  one  story  I  remember,  a  story  about  how  your 
sailors  mutinied  and  how  you  got  them  to  go  to  work  again. 
I  heard  that  years  ago,  when  I  was  a  girl  at  school.  I 
have  never  forgotten;  it  sounded  so  wonderful  and  roman 
tic  and — and  far  off." 

He  nodded.  "It  was  far  off,"  he  said.  "Away  over  in 
the  South  Seas.  And  it  was  a  good  while  ago,  too,  for  I 
was  in  command  of  my  first  vessel,  and  that's  the  time  of 
all  times  when  a  man  doesn't  want  mutiny  or  any  other 
setback.  And  I  never  had  any  trouble  with  my  crews,  be 
fore  or  since,  except  then.  But  the  water  in  our  butts  had 
gone  rancid  and  we  put  in  at  this  island  to  refill.  It  was  a 
pretty  place,  lazy  and  sunshiny,  like  most  of  those  South 
Sea  corals,  and  the  fo'mast  hands  got  ashore  amongst  the 
natives,  drinkin'  palm  wine  and  traders'  gin,  and  they  didn't 
want  to  put  to  sea  as  soon  as  the  mates  and  I  did." 

"But  you  made  them?" 

"Well,  I— er— sort  of  coaxed  'em  into  it." 

"Tell  me  about  it,  please." 

"Oh,  there  isn't  anything  to " 

"Please." 

So  Sears  began  to  spin  the  yarn.     And  from  that  she  led 


FAIR    HARBOR  207 


him  into  another  and  then  another.  They  drifted  through 
the  South  Seas  to  the  East  Indies,  and  from  there  to  Bom 
bay,  and  then  to  Hong  Kong,  and  to  Mauritious,  from  the 
beaches  of  which  came  the  marvelous  sea  shells  that  Sarah 
Macomber  had  in  the  box  in  her  parlor  closet.  They  voy 
aged  through  the  Arabian  Sea,  with  the  parched  desert 
shores  shimmering  in  the  white  hot  sun.  They  turned 
north,  saw  the  sperm  whales  and  the  great  squid  and  the 
floating  bergs.  .  .  .  And  at  last  they  drifted  back  to  Bay- 
port  and  the  captain  looked  at  his  watch. 

"Heavens  and  earth!"  he  exclaimed.  "It's  almost  four 
o'clock.  I  believe  I've  talked  steady  for  pretty  nearly  an 
hour.  I'm  ashamed.  Are  you  awake,  Elizabeth?  I  hope, 
for  your  sake,  you've  been  takin'  a  nap." 

She  did  not  answer  at  once.  Then  she  breathed  deeply. 
"I  don't  know  what  I  have  been  doing — really  doing,"  she 
said.  "I  suppose  I  have  been  sitting  right  here  in  this  old 
summer-house.  But  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  around  the 
world.  I  wanted  to  sail  and  sail.  ...  I  said  so,  didn't  I? 
Well,  I  have.  Thank  you,  Cap'n  Kendrick." 

He  rose  from  the  bench. 

"A  man  gets  garrulous  in  his  old  age,"  he  observed. 
"But  I  didn't  think  I  was  as  old  as  that— just  yet.  The 
talkin'  disease  must  be  catchin',  and  I've  lived  with  Judah 
Cahoon  quite  a  while  now." 

She  laughed.  "If  I  had  as  much  to  talk  about — worth 
while  talking  about — as  you  have,"  she  declared,  "I  should 
never  want  to  stop.  Well,  I  must  be  getting  back  to  the 
Fair  Harbor — and  the  squabbles." 

"Too  bad.     Can  I  help  you  with  'em?" 

"No,  I'm  afraid  not.     They're  not  big  enough  for  you." 

They  turned  to  the  door.     She  spoke  again. 

"You  are  going  to  drive  to  Orham  to-morrow  after 
noon?"  she  asked. 

"Eh?  Oh,  yes.  The  Foam  Flake  and  I  will  make  the 
voyage — if  we  have  luck." 

And  you  are  going — alone?" 

"Yes.     Judah  thinks  I  shouldn't.     Probably  he  thinks  the 


208  FAIR    HARBOR 


Foam  Flake  may  fall  dead,  or  get  to  walkin'  in  his  sleep 
and  step  off  the  bank  or  somethin'.  But  I'm  goin'  to  risk  it. 
I  guess  likely  I  can  keep  him  in  the  channel." 

She  waited  a  moment.  Then  she  smiled  and  shook  her 
head. 

"Cap'n,"  she  said,  "you  make  it  awfully  hard  for  me. 
And  this  is  the  second  time.  Really,  I  feel  so — so  brazen." 

"Brazen?" 

"Yes.  Why  don't  you  invite  me  to  ride  to  Orham  with 
you?  Why  must  I  always  have  to  invite  myself?" 

He  turned  to  look  at  her.  She  colored  a  little,  but  she 
returned  his  look. 

"You — you  mean  it?"  he  demanded. 

"Of  course  I  mean  it.  I  must  get  there  somehow,  be 
cause  I  promised  Mr.  Bradley.  And  unless  you  don't  want 

me,  in  which  case  I  shall  have  to  hire  from  the  livery  stable, 
j » 

But  he  interrupted  her.  "Want  you!"  he  repeated. 
"Want  you !" 

His  tone  was  sufficiently  emphatic,  perhaps  more  emphatic 
than  he  would  have  made  it  if  he  had  not  been  taken  by 
surprise.  She  must  have  found  it  satisfactory,  for  she  did 
not  ask  further  assurances. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said.  "And  when  are  you  planning  to 
start?" 

"Why — why,  right  after  dinner  to-morrow.  If  that's  all 
right  for  you.  But  I'm  sorry  you  had  to  invite  yourself. 
I — I  thought — well,  I  thought  maybe  George  had — had 
planned " 

To  his  further  surprise  she  seemed  a  trifle  annoyed. 

"George  works  at  the  store,"  she  said.  "Besides,  I — well, 
really,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  there  is  no  compelling  reason  why 
George  Kent  should  take  me  everywhere  I  want  to  go." 

Now  Sears  had  imagined  there  was — and  rumor  and  sur 
mise  in  Bayport  had  long  supported  his  imagining — but  he 
did  not  tell  her  that.  What  he  did  say  was  inane  enough. 

"Oh — er — yes,  of  course,"  he  stammered. 

"No,  there  isn't.    He  and  I  are  friends,  good  friends,  and 


FAIR    HARBOR  209 


have  been  for  a  long  time,  but  that  doesn't Well,  Cap'n, 

I  shall  look  for  you  and  the  Foam  Flake — oh,  that  is  a  won 
derful'  name — about  one  to-morrow.  And  I'll  promise  not 
to  keep  you  waiting." 

"If  the  Foam  Flake  doesn't  die  in  the  meantime  I'll  be 
on  hand.  He'll  be  asleep  probably,  but  Judah  declares  he 
walks  in  his  sleep,  so  that Oh,  heavens  and  earth!" 

This  exclamation,  although  but  a  mutter,  was  fervent  in 
deed.  The  captain  and  Elizabeth  had  turned  to  the  vine- 
shaded  doorway  of  the  Eyrie,  and  there,  in  that  doorway, 
was  Miss  Snowden  and,  peering  around  her  thin  shoulder, 
the  moon  face  of  Mrs.  Chase.  Sears  looked  annoyed,  Miss 
Berry  looked  more  so,  and  Elvira  looked — well,  she  looked 
all  sorts  of  things.  As  for  Aurora,  her  expression  was,  as 
always,  unfathomable.  Judah  Gaboon  once  compared  her 
countenance  to  a  pink  china  dish-cover,  and  it  is  hard  to 
read  the  emotions  behind  a  dish-cover. 

Miss  Snowden  spoke  first. 

"Oh !"  she  observed ;  and  much  may  be  expressed  in  that 
monosyllable. 

Elizabeth  spoke  next.  "Your  book  is  there  on  the  seat, 
Elvira/'  she  said,  carelessly.  "At  least  I  suppose  it  is  yours. 
It  has  your  bookmark  in  it." 

Elvira  simpered.  "Yes,"  she  affirmed,  "it  is  mine.  But 
I'm  not  in  a  hurry,  not  a  single  bit  of  hurry.  I  do  hope  we 
haven't  disturbed  you." 

"Not  a  bit,  not  a  bit,"  said  Sears,  crisply.  "Miss  Eliza 
beth  and  I  were  havin'  a  business  talk,  but  we  had  finished. 
The  coast  is  clear  for  you  now.  Good  afternoon." 

"You're  sure,  Cap'n  Kendrick?  Aurora  and  I  wouldn't 
interrupt  a  business  talk  for  the  world.  And  in  such  a  ro 
mantic  place,  too." 

As  Sears  and  Elizabeth  walked  up  the  path  from  the 
summer-house  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Chase  was  audible — as 
usual  very  audible  indeed. 

"Elviry,"  begged  Aurora,  eagerly,  "Elviry,  what  did  he 
say  to  you?  He  looked  awful  kind  of  put  out  when  he 
said  it." 


210  FAIR    HARBOR 


The  captain  was  "put  out,"  so  was  Elizabeth  apparently. 
The  latter  said,  "Oh,  dear!"  and  laughed,  but  there  v/as 
less  humor  than  irritation  in  the  laugh.  Sears's  remark  was 
brief  but  pointed. 

"I  like  four-legged  cats  first-rate,"  he  declared. 

The  next  day  at  one  o'clock  he  and  his  passenger,  with 
the  placid  Foam  Flake  as  motor  power,  left  the  Fair  Har 
bor  together.  And,  as  they  drove  out  of  the  yard,  both 
were  conscious  that  behind  the  shades  of  the  dining-room 
windows  were  at  least  six  eager  faces,  and  whispering 
tongues  were  commenting,  exclaiming  and  surmising. 

The  captain,  for  his  part,  forgot  the  faces  and  tongues 
very  quickly.  It  was  a  pleasant  afternoon,  the  early  fall 
days  on  the  Cape  are  so  often  glorious ;  the  rain  of  a  few 
days  before  had  laid  the  dust,  at  least  the  upper  layer  of  it, 
and  the  woods  were  beginning  to  show  the  first  sprinklings 
of  crimson  and  purple  and  yellow.  The  old  horse  walked 
or  jogged  or  rambled  on  along  the  narrow  winding  ways, 
the  ancient  buggy  rocked  and  rattled  and  swung  in  the  deep 
ruts.  They  met  almost  no  one  for  the  eight  miles  between 
Bayport  and  Orham — there  were  no  roaring,  shrieking 
processions  of  automobiles  in  those  days — and  when  Abial 
Gould,  of  North  Harniss,  encountered  them  at  the  narrowest 
section  of  highway,  he  steered  his  placid  ox  team  into  the 
huckleberry  bushes  and  waited  for  them  to  pass,  waving  a 
whip-handle  greeting  from  his  perch  on  top  of  his  load  of 
fragrant  pitch  pine.  The  little  ponds  and  lakes  shone  deeply 
blue  as  they  glimpsed  them  in  the  hollows  or  over  the  tree 
tops  and,  occasionally,  a  startled  partridge  boomed  from  the 
thicket,  or  a  flock  of  quail  scurried  along  the  roadside. 

They  talked  of  all  sorts  of  things,  mostly  of  ships  and 
seas  and  countries  far  away,  subjects  to  which  Elizabeth  led 
the  conversation  and  then  abandoned  it  to  her  companion. 
They  spoke  little  of  the  Fair  Harbor  or  its  picayune  prob 
lems,  and  of  the  errand  upon  which  they  were  going — the 
judge's  will,  its  reading  and  its  possible  surprises — none 
at  all. 

"Don't,"  pleaded  Elizabeth,  when  Sears  once  mentioned 


FAIR    HARBOR  211 


the  will ;  "don't,  please.  Judge  Knowles  was  such  a  good 
friend  of  mine  that  I  can't  bear  to  think  he  has  gone  and 
that  some  one  else  is  to  speak  his  thoughts  and  carry  out 
his  plans.  Tell  me  another  sea  story,  Cap'n  Kendrick. 
There  aren't  any  Elvira  Snowdens  off  Cape  Horn,  I'm  sure." 

So  Sears  spun  his  yarns  and  enjoyed  the  spinning  be 
cause  she  seemed  to  so  enjoy  listening  to  them.  And  he  did 
not  once  mention  his  crippled  limbs,  or  his  despondency  con 
cerning  the  future;  in  fact,  he  pretty  well  forgot  them  for 
the  time.  And  he  did  not  mention  George  Kent,  a  person 
whom  he  had  meant  to  mention  and  praise  highly,  for  his 
unreasonable  conscience  had  pestered  him  since  the  talk  in 
the  summer-house  and,  as  usual,  he  had  determined  to  do 
penance.  But  he  forgot  Kent  for  the  time,  forgot  him  alto 
gether. 

Bradley's  law  offices  occupied  a  one-story  building  on 
Orham's  main  road  near  the  center  of  the  village.  There 
were  several  rigs  standing  at  the  row  of  hitching  posts  by 
the  steps  as  they  drove  up.  Sears  climbed  from  the  buggy 
— he  did  it  much  easier  than  had  been  possible  a  month  be 
fore — and  moored  the  Foam  Flake  beside  them.  Then  they 
entered  the  building. 

Bradley's  office  boy  told  them  that  his  employer  and  the 
others  were  in  the  private  room  beyond.  The  captain  in 
quired  who  the  others  were. 

"Well,"  said  the  boy,  "there's  that  Mr.  Barnes— he's  the 
one  from  California,  you  know,  Judge  Knowles'  nephew. 
And  Mike — Mr.  Callahan,  I  mean — him  that  took  care  of 
the  judge's  horse  and  team  and  things;  and  that  Tidditt 
woman  that  kept  his  house.  And  there's  Mr.  Dishup,  the 
Orthodox  minister  from  over  to  Bayport,  and  another  man, 
I  don't  know  his  name.  Walk  right  in,  Cap'n  Kendrick. 
Mr.  Bradley  told  me  to  tell  you  and  Miss  Berry  to  walk 
right  in  when  you  came." 

So  they  walked  right  in.  Bradley  greeted  them  and  in 
troduced  them  to  Knowles  Barnes,  the  long-looked-for 
nephew  from  California.  Barnes  was  a  keen-eyed,  healthy- 
looking  business  man  and  the  captain  liked  him  at  once. 


212  FAIR    HARBOR 


The  person  whom  the  office  boy  did  not  know  turned  out 
to  be  Captain  Noah  Baker,  a  retired  master  mariner,  who 
was  Grand  Master  of  the  Bayport  lodge  of  Masons. 

"And  now  that  you  and  Miss  Berry  are  here,  Cap'n  Ken- 
drick,"  said  Bradley,  "we  will  go  ahead.  This,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  is  the  will  of  our  late  good  friend,  Judge 
Knowles.  He  asked  you  all  to  be  here  when  it  was  opened 
and  read.  Mr.  Barnes  is  obliged  to  go  West  again  in  a 
week  or  so,  so  the  sooner  we  get  to  business  the  better. 
Ahem !" 

Then  followed  the  reading  of  the  will.  One  by  one  the 
various  legacies  and  bequests  were  read.  Some  of  them 
Sears  Kendrick  had  expected  and  foreseen.  Others  came 
as  surprises.  He  was  rather  astonished  to  find  that  the 
judge  had  been,  according  to  Cape  Cod  standards  of  that 
day,  such  a  rich  man.  The  estate,  so  the  lawyer  said, 
would,  according  to  Knowles'  own  figures,  total  in  the 
neighborhood  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars. 

Judge  Knowles  bequeathed: 

To  the  Endowment  Fund  of  the  Fair  Harbor  for 

Mariners'  Women   $50,000 

To  the  Bayport  Congregational  Church 5,ooo 

To  the  Building  Fund  of  the  Bayport  Lodge  of 

Masons       5,ooo 

To  Emmeline  Tidditt  (his  housekeeper)   5,000 

To  Michael  Callahan  (his  hired  man) 5,ooo 

To  Elizabeth  Berry — in  trust  until  she  should  be 

thirty  years  of  age   20,000 

Other  small  bequests,  about   7,000 

The  balance,  the  residue  of  the  estate,  amounting  to  a 
sum  approximating  fifty-five  thousand,  to  Henry  Knowles 
Barnes,  of  San  Francisco,  California. 

There  were  several  pages  of  carefully  worded  directions 
and  instructions.  The  fifty  thousand  for  the  Fair  Harbor 
was  already  invested  in  good  securities  and,  from  the  in 
terest  of  these,  Sears  Kendrick's  salary  of  fifteen  hundred 


FAIR    HARBOR  213 


a  year  was  to  be  paid  as  long  as  he  wished  to  retain  his 
present  position  as  general  manager.  If  the  time  should 
come  when  he  wished  to  relinquish  that  position  he  was 
given  authority  to  appoint  his  successor  at  the  same  salary. 
Or,  should  Cordelia  Berry,  at  any  time,  decide  to  give  up 
her  position  as  matron,  Kendrick  and  Bradley,  acting  to 
gether,  might,  if  they  saw  fit,  appoint  a  suitable  person  to 
act  as  manager  and  matron  at  a  suitable  salary.  In  this 
event,  of  course,  Kendrick  would  no  longer  continue  to  draw 
his  fifteen  hundred  a  year. 

The  reading  was  not  without  interruptions.  Mr.  Calla- 
han's  was  the  most  dramatic.  When  announcement  was 
made  of  his  five  thousand  dollar  windfall  his  Celtic  fervor 
got  the  better  of  him  and  he  broke  loose  with  a  tangled 
mass  of  tearful  ejaculations  and  prayers,  a  curious  mixture 
of  glories  to  the  saints  and  demands  for  blessings  upon  the 
soul  of  his  benefactor.  Mrs.  Tidditt  was  as  greatly  moved 
as  he,  but  she  had  her  emotions  under  firmer  control.  The 
Reverend  Mr.  Dishup  was  happy  and  grateful  on  behalf  of 
his  parish,  so  too  was  Captain  Baker  as  representative  of 
the  Masonic  Lodge.  But  each  of  these  had  been  in  a  meas 
ure  prepared,  they  had  been  led  to  expect  some  gift  or 
remembrance.  It  was  Elizabeth  Berry  who  had,  appar 
ently,  expected  nothing — nothing  for  herself,  that  is.  When 
the  lawyer  announced  the  generous  bequest  to  the  Fair  Har 
bor  she  caught  her  breath  and  turned  to  look  at  Sears  with 
an  almost  incredulous  joy  in  her  eyes.  But  when  he  read 
of  the  twenty  thousand  which  was  hers — the  income  begin 
ning  at  once  and  the  principal  when  she  was  thirty — she  was 
so  tremendously  taken  aback  that,  for  an  instant,  the  cap 
tain  thought  she  was  going  to  faint.  "Oh!"  she  exclaimed, 
and  that  was  all,  but  the  color  left  her  face  entirely. 

Sears  rose,  so  did  the  minister,  but  she  waved  them  back. 
"Don't,"  she  begged.  "I— I  am  all  right.  ...  No,  please 
don't  speak  to  me  for — for  a  little  while." 

So  they  did  not  speak,  but  the  captain,  watching  her,  saw 
that  the  color  came  back  very  slowly  to  her  cheeks  and  that 
her  eyes,  when  she  opened  them,  were  wet.  Her  hands, 


214  FAIR    HARBOR 


clasped  in  her  lap,  were  trembling.  Sears,  although  rejoic 
ing  for  her,  felt  a  pang  of  hot  resentment  at  the  manner 
of  the  announcement.  It  should  not  have  been  so  public. 
She  should  not  have  had  to  face  such  a  surprise  before 
those  staring  spectators.  Why  had  not  the  judge — or  Brad 
ley,  if  he  knew — have  prepared  her  in  some  measure? 

But  when  it  was  over  and  he  hastened  to  congratulate 
her,  she  was  more  composed.  She  received  his  congratula 
tions,  and  those  of  the  others,  if  not  quite  calmly  at  least 
with  dignity  and  simplicity.  To  Mr.  Dishup  and  Bradley 
and  Captain  Baker  she  said  little  except  thanks.  To  Barnes, 
whose  congratulations  were  sincere  and  hearty,  and,  to  all 
appearances  at  least,  quite  ungrudging,  she  expressed  her 
self  as  too  astonished  to  be  very  coherent. 

"I— I  can  scarcely  believe  it  yet,"  she  faltered.  "I  can't 

understand — I  can't  think  why  he  did  it And  you 

are  all  so  very  kind.  You  won't  mind  if  I  don't  say  any 
more  now,  will  you?" 

But  to  Sears  when  he  came,  once  more,  to  add  another 
word  and  to  shake  her  hand,  she  expressed  a  little  of  the 
uncertainty  which  she  felt. 

"Oh,"  she  whispered ;  "oh,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  do  you  think 
it  is  right?  Do  you  think  he  really  meant  to  do  it?  You 
are  sure  he  did?" 

His  tone  should  have  carried  conviction.  "You  bet  he 
meant  it!"  he  declared,  fervently.  "He  never  meant  any 
thing  any  more  truly ;  I  know  it." 

"Do  you?  Do  you  really?  .  .  .  Did — did  you  know? 
Did  he  tell  you  he  was  going  to?" 

"Not  exactly,  but  he  hinted.     He " 

"Wait.  Wait,  please.  Don't  tell  me  any  more  now.  By 
and  by,  on  the  way  home,  perhaps.  I — I  want  to  know 
all  about  it.  I  want  to  be  sure.  And,"  with  a  tremulous 
smile,  "I  doubt  if  I  could  really  understand  just  yet." 

The  group  in  the  lawyer's  office  did  not  break  up  for  an 
other  hour.  There  were  many  matters  for  discussion,  mat 
ters  upon  which  Bradley  and  Barnes  wished  the  advice  of 
the  others.  Mike  and  Mrs.  Tidditt  were  sent  home  early, 


FAIR    HARBOR  215 


and  departed,  volubly,  though  tearfully  rejoicing.  The  min 
ister  and  Captain  Noah  stayed  on  to  answer  questions  con 
cerning  the  church  and  the  lodge,  the  former's  pressing 
needs  and  the  new  building  which  the  latter  had  hoped  for 
and  which  was  now  a  certainty.  Sears  and  Elizabeth  re 
mained  longest.  Bradley  whispered  to  the  captain  that  he 
wished  them  to  do  so. 

When  they  were  alone  with  him,  and  with  Barnes  of 
course,  he  took  from  his  pocket  two  sealed  letters. 

"The  judge  gave  me  these  along  with  the  will,"  he  said. 
"That  was  about  three  weeks  before  he  died.  I  don't  know 
what  is  in  them  and  he  gave  me  to  understand  that  I  wasn't 
supposed  to  know.  They  are  for  you  two  and  no  one  else, 
so  he  said.  You  are  to  read  yours  when  you  are  alone, 
Cap'n  Kendrick,  and  Elizabeth  is  to  read  hers  when  she 
is  by  herself.  And  he  particularly  asked  me  to  tell  you 
both  not  to  make  your  decision  too  quickly.  Think  it  over, 
he  said." 

He  handed  Sears  an  envelope  addressed  in  Judge  Knowles' 
hand-writing,  and  to  Elizabeth  another  bearing  her  name. 

"There!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  "That  is 
done.  Ever  since  the  old  judge  left  us  I  have  been  feeling 
as  if  he  were  standing  at  my  elbow  and  nudging  me  not  to 
forget.  He  had  a  will  of  his  own,  Judge  Knowles  had,  and 
I  don't  mean  the  will  we  have  just  read,  either.  But,  take 
him  by  and  large,  as  you  sailors  say,  Cap'n,  I  honestly  be 
lieve  he  was  the  biggest  and  squarest  man  this  county  has 
seen  for  years.  Some  of  us  are  going  to  be  surer  of  that 
fact  every  day  that  passes." 

It  was  after  four  when  Elizabeth  and  Sears  climbed 
aboard  the  buggy  and  the  captain,  tugging  heavily  on  what 
he  termed  the  port  rein,  coaxed  the  unwilling  Foam  Flake 
into  the  channel — or  the  road.  Heavy  clouds  had  risen  in 
the  west  since  their  arrival  in  Orham,  the  sky  was  cov 
ered  with  them,  and  it  was  already  beginning  to  grow  dark. 
When  they  turned  from  the  main  road  into  the  wood  road 
leading  across  the  Cape  there  were  lighted  lamps  in  the 
kitchens  of  the  scattered  houses  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town. 


216  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Is  it  going  to  rain,  do  you  think?"  asked  Elizabeth, 
peering  at  the  troubled  brown  masses  above  the  tree  tops. 

Sears  shook  his  head.  "Hardly  think  so,"  he  replied. 
"Looks  more  like  wind  to  me.  Pretty  heavy  squall,  I 
shouldn't  wonder,  and  maybe  rain  to-morrow.  Come,  come ; 
get  under  way,  Old  Hundred,"  addressing  the  meandering 
Foam  Flake.  "If  you  don't  travel  faster  than  this  in  fair 
weather  and  a  smooth  sea,  what  will  you  do  when  we  have 
to  reef?  Well,"  with  a  chuckle,  "even  if  it  comes  on  a 
livin'  gale  the  old  horse  won't  blow  off  the  course.  Judah 
feeds  him  too  well.  Nothin'  short  of  a  typhoon  could  heel 
him  down." 

The  prophesied  gale  held  off,  but  the  darkness  shut  in 
rapidly.  In  the  long  stretches  of  thick  woods  through  which 
they  were  passing  it  was  soon  hard  to  see  clearly.  Not  that 
that  made  any  difference.  Sears  knew  the  Orham  road 
pretty  well  and  th6  placid  Foam  Flake  seemed  to  know  it 
absolutely.  His  ancient  hoofs  plodded  up  and  down  in  the 
worn  "horse  path"  between  the  grass-grown  and  sometimes 
bush-grown  ridges  which  separated  it  from  the  deep  ruts 
on  either  side.  Sometimes  those  ruts  were  so  deep  that  the 
tops  of  the  blueberry  bushes  and  weeds  on  those  ridges 
scratched  the  bottom  of  the  buggy. 

Beside  his  orders  to  the  horse  the  captain  had  said  very 
little  since  their  departure.  He  had  been  thinking,  though, 
thinking  hard.  It  was  just  beginning  to  dawn  upon  him, 
the  question  as  to  what  this  good  fortune  which  had  be 
fallen  the  girl  beside  him  might  mean,  what  effect  it  might 
have  upon  her,  upon  her  future — and  upon  her  relations 
with  him,  Sears  Kendrick. 

Hitherto  those  relations  had  been  those  of  comrades,  fel 
low  workers,  partners,  so  to  speak,  in  an  enterprise  the 
success  of  which  involved  continuous  planning  and  fighting 
against  obstacles.  A  difficult  but  fascinating  game  of  itself, 
but  one  which  also  meant  a  means  of  livelihood  for  them 
both.  Elizabeth  had  drawn  no  salary,  it  is  true,  but  without 
her  help  her  mother  could  not  have  held  her  position  as 
matron,  not  for  a  month  could  she  have  done  so.  It  was 


FAIR    HARBOR  217 


Elizabeth  who  was  the  real  matron,  who  really  earned  the 
wages  Cordelia  received  and  upon  which  they  both  lived. 
And  Elizabeth  had  told  the  captain  that  she  should  remain 
at  the  Fair  Harbor  and  work  with  and  for  her  mother  as 
long  as  the  latter  needed  her. 

And  now  Sears  was  realizing  that  the  necessity  for  either 
of  them  to  remain  there  no  longer  existed.  Cordelia,  thanks 
to  Mrs.  Phillips'  bequest,  had  five  thousand  dollars  of  her 
own.  Elizabeth  had,  for  the  six  or  seven  years  before  her 
thirtieth  birthday,  an  income  of  at  least  twelve  hundred 
yearly.  Cordelia's  legacy  would  add  several  hundred  to 
that.  If  they  wished  it  was  quite  possible  for  them  to  re 
tire  from  the  Fair  Harbor  and  live  somewhere  in  a  modest 
fashion  upon  that  income.  Many  couples — couples  esteemed 
by  Bayporters  as  being  in  comfortable  circumstances — were 
living  upon  incomes  quite  as  small.  Sears'  was  suddenly 
brought  face  to  face  with  this  possibility,  and  was  forced 
to  admit  it  even  a  probability. 

And  he — he  had  no  income  worth  mentioning.  He  could 
not  go  to  sea  again  for  a  long  time ;  he  did  not  add  "if 
ever,"  because  even  conservative  Doctor  Sheldon  now  ad 
mitted  that  his  complete  recovery  was  but  a  matter  of  time, 
but  it  would  be  a  year — perhaps  years.  And  for  that  year, 
or  those  years,  he  must  live — and  he  had  practically  nothing 
to  live  upon  except  his  Fair  Harbor  salary.  And  then 
again,  as  an  additional  obligation,  there  was  his  promise 
to  Judge  Knowles  to  stick  it  out.  But  to  stick  it  out  alone 
— without  her ! 

For  Elizabeth  was  under  no  obligation.  She  might  not 
stay — probably  would  not.  She  was  a  young  woman  of 
fortune  now.  She  could  do  what  she  liked,  in  reason.  She 
might — why,  she  might  even  decide  to  marry.  There  was 
Kent 

At  the  thought  Sears  choked  and  swallowed  hard.  A 
tingling,  freezing  shiver  ran  down  his  spine.  She  would 
marry  George  Kent  and  he  would  be  left  to — to  face — to 
face She  would  marry — she 

The   shiver  lasted  but  a   moment.     He   shut  his   teeth, 


218  FAIR    HARBOR 


blinked  and  came  back  to  the  buggy  seat  and  reality — and 
shame.  Overwhelming,  humiliating  shame.  He  glanced 
fearfully  at  her,  afraid  that  she  might  have  seen  his  face 
and  read  upon  it  the  secret  which  he  himself  had  learned 
for  the  first  time.  No,  she  did  not  read  it,  she  was  not 
looking  at  him,  she  too  seemed  to  be  thinking.  There  was 
a  chance  for  him  yet.  He  must  be  a  man,  a  decent  man, 
not  a  fool  and  a  selfish  beast.  She  did  not  know — and  she 
should  not.  Then,  or  at  any  future  time. 

He  spoke  now  and  hurriedly.  "Well,"  he  began,  "I  sup- 
pose " 

But  she  had  looked  up  and  now  she  spoke.  Apparently 
she  had  not  heard  him,  for  she  said : 

"Tell  me  about  it,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  please.  I  want  to 
hear  all  about  it.  You  said  you  knew?  You  say  Judge 
Knowles  hinted  that  he  was  going  to  do  this — for  me?  Tell 
me  all  about  it,  please.  Please." 

So  he  told  her,  all  that  he  could  remember  of  the  judge's 
words  concerning  his  regard  for  her,  of  his  high  opinion  of 
her  abilities,  of  his  friendship  for  her  father,  and  of  his 
intention  to  see  that  she  was  "provided  for." 

"I  didn't  know  just  what  he  meant,  of  course,"  he  said,  in 
conclusion,  "but  I  guessed,  some  of  it.  I  do  want  you  to 
know,  Elizabeth,"  he  added,  stammering  a  little  in  his* 
earnestness,  "how  glad  I  am  for  you,  how  very  glad." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  do  know." 

"Well,  I — I  haven't  said  much,  but  I  am.  I  don't  think  I 
ever  was  more  glad,  or  could  be.  You  believe  that,  don't 
you?" 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "Why,  of  course  I  believe 
it,"  she  said.  "Why  do  you  ask  that?" 

"Oh,  I— I  don't  know.     I  hadn't  said  much  about  it." 

"But  it  wasn't  necessary.  I  knew  you  were  glad.  I 
know  you  by  this  time,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  through  and 
through." 

The  same  guilty  shiver  ran  down  his  spine  and  he  glanced 
sharply  at  her  to  see  if  there  was  any  hidden  meaning  be 
hind  her  words.  But  there  was  not.  She  was  looking 


FAIR    HARBOR  219 


down  again,  and  when  she  again  spoke  it  was  to  repeat  the 
question  she  had  asked  at  the  lawyer's  office. 

"I  wonder  if  I  ought  to  take  it?"  she  murmured.  "Do 
you  think  it  is  right  for  me  to  accept — so  much?" 

"Right!"  he  repeated.  "Right?  Of  course  it's  right. 
And  because  it  is  enough  to  amount  to  somethin'  makes  it 
all  the  more  right.  Judge  Knowles  knew  what  he  was 
doin',  trust  his  long  head  for  that.  A  little  would  only 
have  made  things  easier  where  you  were.  .  .  .  Now,"  he 
forced  himself  to  say  it,  "now  you  can  be  independent." 

"Independent?" 

"Why,  yes.  Do  what  you  like — in  reason.  Steer  your 
own  course.  Live  as  you  want  to  ...  and  where  .  .  .  and 
how  you  want  to." 

They  were  simple  sentences  these,  but  he  found  them  hard 
to  say.  She  turned  again  to  look  at  him. 

"Why  do  you  speak  like  that?"  she  asked.  "How  should 
I  want  to  live?  What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean — er — you  can  think  of  your  own  happiness  and 
— plans,  and — all  that.  You  won't  be  anchored  to  the  Fair 
Harbor,  unless  you  want  to  be.  You  ...  Eh  ?  Hi ! 
Standby!  Whoa!  Whoa!" 

The  last  commands  were  roars  at  the  horse,  for,  at  that 
moment,  the  squall  struck. 

It  came  out  of  the  blackness  to  the  left  and  ahead  like 
some  enormous  living  creature  springing  over  the  pine  tops 
and  pouncing  upon  them.  There  was  a  rumble,  a  roar  and 
then  a  shrieking  rush.  The  sand  of  the  road  leaped  up  like 
the  smoke  from  an  explosion,  showers  of  leaves  and  twigs 
pattered  sharply  upon  the  buggy  top  or  were  thrown  smartly 
into  their  faces.  From  all  about  came  the  squeaks  and 
groans  of  branches  rubbing  against  each  other,  with  an 
occasional  sharp  crack  as  a  limb  gave  way  under  the  pressure. 

Captain  Kendrick  and  his  passenger  had  been  so  occupied 
with  their  thoughts  and  conversation  that  both  had  forgot 
ten  the  heavy  clouds  they  had  noticed  when  they  left  Brad- 
ley's  office,  rolling  up  from  the  west.  Then,  too,  the  in- 


220  FAIR    HARBOR 


creasing  darkness  had  hidden  the  sky.  So  the  swoop  of 
the  squall  took  them  completely  by  surprise. 

And  not  only  them  but  that  genuine  antique  the  Foam 
Flake.  This  phlegmatic  animal  had  been  enjoying  himself 
for  the  last  half  hour.  No  one  had  shouted  orders  at  him, 
he  had  not  been  slapped  with  the  ends  of  the  reins,  no  whip 
had  been  cracked  in  his  vicinity.  He  had  been  permitted  to 
amble  and  to  walk  and  had  availed  himself  of  the  permis 
sion.  For  the  most  recent  mile  he  had  been,  practically,  a 
somnambulist.  Now  out  of  his  dreams,  whatever  they  may 
have  been,  came  this  howling  terror.  He  jumped  and  snorted. 
Then  the  wind,  tearing  a  prickly  dead  branch  from  a  scrub 
oak  by  the  roadside,  cast  it  full  into  his  dignified  countenance. 
For  the  first  time  in  ten  years  at  least,  the  Foam  Flake  ran 
away. 

He  did  not  run  far,  of  course ;  he  was  not  in  training  for 
distance  events.  But  his  sprint,  although  short,  was  lively 
and  erratic.  He  jumped  to  one  side,  the  side  opposite  to 
that  from  which  the  branch  had  come,  jerking  the  buggy 
out  of  the  ruts  and  setting  it  to  rocking  like  a  dory  amid 
breakers.  He  jumped  again,  and  this  brought  his  ancient 
broadside  into  contact  with  the  bushes  by  the  edge  of  the 
road.  They  were  ragged,  and  prickly,  and  in  violent  com 
motion.  So  he  jumped  the  other  way. 

Sears,  yelling  Whoas  and  compliments,  stood  erect  upon 
his  newly-mended  legs  and  leaned  his  weight  backward  upon 
the  reins.  If  the  skipper  of  a  Hudson  River  canal  boat  had 
suddenly  found  his  craft  deserting  the  waterway  and  start 
ing  to  climb  Bear  Mountain,  he  might  have  experienced 
something  of  Sears'  feelings  at  that  moment.  Canal  boats 
should  not  climb  ;  it  isn't  done  ;  and  horses  of  the  Foam  Flake 
age,  build  and  reputation  should  not  run  away. 

"Whoa!  Whoa!  What  in  thunder—?"  roared  the  cap 
tain.  "Port !  Port,  you  lubber !" 

He  jerked  violently  on  the  left  rein.  That  rein  was,  like 
the  horse  and  the  buggy,  of  more  than  middle  age.  Leather 
of  that  age  must  be  persuaded,  not  jerked.  The  rein  broke 
just  beyond  Sears'  hand,  flew  over  the  dashboard  and 


FAIR    HARBOR  221 


dragged  in  the  road.  The  driver's  weight  came  solidly 
upon  the  right  hand  rein.  The  Foam  Flake  dashed  across 
the  highway  again,  head-first  into  the  woods  this  time. 

Then  followed  a  few  long — very  long  minutes  of  scratch 
ing  and  rocking  and  pounding.  Sears  heard  himself  shout 
ing  something  about  the  broken  rein,  he  must  get  that  rein. 

"It's  all  right!  It's  all  right,  Elizabeth!"  he  shouted. 
"I'm  goin'  to  lean  out  over  his  back,  if  I  can  and — O — oh!" 

The  last  was  a  groan,  involuntarily  wrung  from  him  by 
the  pain  in  his  knees.  He  had  put  an  unaccustomed  strain 
upon  them  and  they  were  remonstrating.  He  shut  his  teeth, 
swallowed  another  groan,  and  leaned  out  over  the  dash,  his 
hand  clutching  for  the  harness  of  the  rocketting,  bumping 
Foam  Flake. 

Then  he  realized  that  some  one  else  was  leaning  over 
that  dashboard,  was  in  fact  almost  out  of  the  buggy  and 
swinging  by  the  harness  and  the  shaft. 

"Elizabeth !"  he  shouted,  in  wild  alarm.  "Elizabeth,  what 
are  you  doin'?  Stop!" 

But  she  was  back,  panting  a  little,  but  safe. 

"I  have  the  rein,"  she  panted.  "Give  me  the  other,  Cap'n 
Kendrick.  I  can  handle  him,  I  know.  Give  me  the  rein. 
Sit  down!  Oh,  please!  You  will  hurt  yourself  again!" 

But  he  was  in  no  mood  to  sit  down.  He  snatched  the  end 
of  the  broken  rein  from  her  hand,  taking  it  and  the  com 
mand  again  simultaneously. 

"Get  back,  back  on  the  seat,"  he  ordered.  "Now  then," 
addressing  the  horse,  "we'll  see  who's  what!  Whoa! 
Whoa !  Steady !  Come  into  that  channel,  you  old  idiot ! 
Come  on!" 

The  Foam  Flake  was  pretty  nearly  ready  to  come  by  this 
time.  And  Kendrick's  not  too  gentle  coaxing  helped.  The 
buggy  settled  into  the  ruts  with  a  series  of  bumps.  The 
horse's  gallop  became  a  trot,  then  a  walk ;  then  he  stopped 
and  stood  still. 

The  capta'in  subsided  on  the  seat  beside  his  passenger. 
He  relaxed  his  tension  upon  the  reins  and  the  situation. 


222  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Whew !"  he  exclaimed.  "That  was  sweet  while  it  lasted. 
All  right,  are  you?'* 

She  answered,  still  rather  breathlessly,  "Yes,  I  am  all 
right,"  she  declared.  "But  you?  Aren't  you  hurt?" 

"Me?     Not  a  bit." 

"You're  sure?  I  was  so  afraid.  Your — your  legs,  you 
know." 

"My  legs  are  all  serene."  They  weren't,  by  any  means, 
and  were  at  that  moment  proclaiming  the  fact,  but  he  did 
not  mean  she  should  know.  "They're  first-rate.  .  .  .  Well, 
I'm  much  obliged." 

"Obliged  for  what?" 

"For  that  rein.  But  you  shouldn't  have  climbed  out  that 
way.  You  might  have  broken  your  neck.  'Twas  an  awful 
risk." 

"You  were  going  to  take  the  same  risk.  And  7  am  not 
in  the  doctor's  care." 

"Well,  you  shouldn't  have  done  it,  just  the  same.  And 
it  was  a  spunky  thing  to  do.  ...  But  what  a  numbskull  I 
was  not  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  that  squall.  Humph!" 
with  a  grin,  "I  believe  I  told  you  even  a  typhoon  couldn't 
move  this  horse.  I  was  wrong,  wasn't  I  ?" 

The  squall  had  passed  on,  but  a  steady  gale  was  behind  it. 
And  there  was  a  marked  hint  of  dampness  in  the  air.  Sears 
sniffed. 

"And  I'm  afraid,  too,"  he  said,  "that  I  was  wrong  about 
that  rain  comin'  to-morrow.  I  think  it's  comin'  this  evenin' 
and  pretty  soon,  at  that." 

It  came  within  fifteen  minutes,  in  showery  gusts  at  first. 
The  captain  urged  the  Foam  Flake  onward  as  fast  as  pos 
sible,  but  that  quadruped  had  already  over-expended  his 
stock  of  energy  and  shouts  and  slaps  meant  nothing  to  him. 
For  a  short  time  Sears  chatted  and  laughed,  but  then  he 
relapsed  into  silence.  Elizabeth,  watching  him  fearfully, 
caught,  as  the  buggy  bounced  over  a  loose  stone,  a  smoth 
ered  exclamation,  first  cousin  to  a  groan. 

"I  knew  it !"  she  cried.     "You  are  hurt,  Cap'n  Kendrick." 

"No,  no,  I'm  not,"  hastily.     "It's — it's  those  confounded 


FAIR    HARBOR  223 


spliced  spars  of  mine.  They're  a  little  weak  yet,  I  presume 
likely." 

"Of  course  they  are.  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry.  Won't  you  let 
me  drive?" 

"I  should  say  not.  I'm  not  quite  ready  for  the  scrap 
heap  yet.  And  if  I  couldn't  steer  this  Noah's  ark  I  should 
be.  ...  Hello!  here's  another  craft  at  sea." 

Another  vehicle  was  ahead  of  them  in  the  road,  coming 
toward  them.  Sears  pulled  out  to  permit  it  to  pass.  But 
the  driver  of  the  other  buggy  hailed  as  the  horses'  heads 
came  abreast. 

"Elizabeth,"  he  shouted,  "is  that  you?" 

Miss  Berry's  surprise  showed  in  her  voice. 

"Why,  George !"  she  cried.  "Where  in  the  world  are  you 
going?" 

The  horses  stopped.    Kent  leaned  forward. 

"Going?"  he  repeated.  "Why,  I  was  going  after  you,  of 
course.  Are  you  wet  through?" 

He  seemed  somewhat  irritated,  so  the  captain  thought. 

"No,  indeed,"  replied  Elizabeth.  "I  am  all  right.  But 
why  did  you  come  after  me?  Didn't  they  tell  you  I  was 
with  Cap'n  Kendrick  ?" 

"They  told  me — yes.  But  why  didn't  you  tell  me  you 
were  going  to  Orham  ?  I  would  have  driven  you  over ;  you 
know  I  would." 

"You  were  at  work  at  the  store." 

"Well,  I  could  have  taken  the  afternoon  off.  .  .  .  But 
there!  no  use  talking  about  it  out  here  in  this  rain.  Come 
on.  ...  Oh,  wait  until  I  turn  around.  Drive  ahead  a 
little,  will  you?" 

This  was  the  first  time  he  had  spoken  to  Sears,  and  even 
then  his  tone  was  not  too  gracious.  The  captain  drove  on 
a  few  steps,  as  requested,  and,  a  moment  later,  Kent's 
equipage,  now  headed  in  their  direction,  was  alongside  once 
more. 

"Whoa!"  he  shouted,  and  both  horses  stopped.  "Come 
on,  Elizabeth,"  urged  the  young  man,  briskly.  "W'ait,  I'll 
help  you." 


224  FAIR    HARBOR 


He  sprang  out  of  his  buggy  and  approached  theirs. 
"Come  on,"  he  said,  again.  "Quick!  It  is  going  to  rain 
harder." 

Elizabeth  did  not  move.  "But  I'm  not  going  with  you, 
George,"  she  said  quietly. 

He  stared  at  her. 

"Not  going  with  me  ?"  he  repeated.  "Why,  of  course  you 
are.  I've  come  on  purpose  for  you." 

"I'm  sorry.  You  shouldn't  have  done  it.  You  knew  I 
would  be  all  right  with  Cap'n  Kendrick." 

"I  didn't  even  know  you  were  going  with  him.  You 
didn't  say  you  were  going  at  all.  If  you  had  I " 

"You  would  have  taken  another  afternoon's  holiday.  And 
you  know  what  Mr.  Bassett  said  about  the  last  one." 

"I  don't  care  a — I  don't  care  what  he  says.  I  shan't  be 
working  very  long  for  him,  I  hope.  .  .  .  But  there,  Eliza 
beth  !  Come  on,  come  on !  I  can  get  you  home  for  supper 
while  that  old  horse  of  Cahoon's  is  thinking  about  it." 

But  still  she  did  not  move.  Sears  thought  that,  perhaps, 
he  should  take  a  hand. 

"Go  right  ahead,  Elizabeth,"  he  said.  "George  is  right 
about  the  horses." 

"Of  course  I  am.     Come,  Elizabeth." 

"No,  I  shall  stay  with  Cap'n  Kendrick.  He  has  been 
kind  enough  to  take  me  so  far  and  we  are  almost  home.  You 
can  follow,  George,  and  we'll  get  there  together." 

"Well,  I  like  that!"  exclaimed  Kent.  But  he  did  not 
speak  as  if  he  liked  it.  "After  I  have  taken  the  trouble " 

"Hush !  Don't  be  silly.  The  cap'n  has  taken  a  great  deal 
of  trouble,  too.  .  .  .  No,"  as  Sears  began  to  protest,  "you 
can't  get  rid  of  me,  Cap'n  Kendrick." 

"But,  Elizabeth " 

"No.  Do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to  leave  you — in  pain — 
and  .  .  .  Drive  on,  please.  George  can  follow  us." 

"But  I'm  all  right,  good  land  knows !  The  Foam  Flake 
won't  try  to  fly  again.  And  really,  I " 

"Drive  on,  please."  , 

So  he  drove  on ;  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  else  to  do. 


FAIR    HARBOR  225 


It  did  not  help  his  feelings  to  hear,  as  George  Kent  was  left 
standing  in  the  road,  a  disgusted  and  profane  ejaculation 
from  that  young  gentleman. 

The  remainder  of  the  journey  was  quickly  made.  There 
was  little  conversation.  The  rain,  the  wind,  and  the  sounds 
of  the  horses'  hoofs  and  the  rattle  of  the  buggies — for 
Kent's  was  close  behind  all  the  way — furnished  most  of  the 
noise. 

Judah  was  waiting  when  they  came  into  the  yard  of  the 
Minot  place.  He  and  Elizabeth  helped  Sears  from  the 
buggy.  The  captain,  in  spite  of  his  protestations,  could 
scarcely  stand.  Kent,  because  Elizabeth  asked  him  to,  as 
sisted  in  getting  him  into  the  kitchen  and  the  biggest  rock- 
i»g  chair. 

"Now  go  ...  go,"  urged  Sears.  "Fm  just  a  little  lame, 
that's  all,  and  I'll  be  all  right  by  to-morrow.  Go,  Eliza 
beth,  please.  Your  supper  is  waitin'  as  it  is.  Now  go." 

She  went,  but  rather  reluctantly.  "I  shall  run  over  after 
supper  to  see  how  you  are,"  she  declared.  "Thank  you 
very  much  for  taking  me  to  Orham,  Cap'n." 

"Thank  you  for — for  a  whole  lot  of  things.  And  don't 
you  dream  of  comin'  over  again  to-night.  There's  no  sense 
in  it,  is  there,  George?" 

If  Kent  heard  he  did  not  answer.  His  "good  night" 
was  brief.  Sears  did  not  like  it,  nor  the  expression  on  his 
face.  This  was  a  new  side  of  the  young  fellow's  charac 
ter,  a  side  the  captain  had  not  seen  before.  And  yet — 
well,  he  was  young,  very  young.  Sears  was  troubled  about 
the  affair.  Had  he  been  to  blame?  He  had  not  meant  to 
be.  Ah-hum !  the  world  was  full  of  misunderstandings  and 
foolishness.  And  was  there,  in  all  that  world,  any  being 
more  foolish  than  himself? 

Just  here,  Judah,  having  returned  from  stabling  the  Foam 
Flake,  rushed  into  the  kitchen  to  demand  answers  to  a  thou 
sand  questions.  For  the  next  hour  there  was  no  opportunity 
for  moralizing  or  melancholy. 


CHAPTER   XII 

ELIZABETH  did  not  visit  the  Minot  place  that  evening, 
as  she  had  said  she  meant  to  do.  It  may  be  that 
Sears  was  a  trifle  disappointed,  but  even  he  would 
have  been  obliged  to  confess  that  that  particular  evening 
was  not  the  time  for  him  to  receive  callers.  He  ate  his 
supper — a  very  small  portion  of  the  meal  which  Judah  had 
provided  for  him — and,  soon  afterward,  retired  to  the  spare 
stateroom  and  bed.  Undressing  was  a  martyrdom,  and  he 
had  hard  work  to  keep  back  the  groans  which  the  pain  in 
his  legs  tempted  him  to  utter.  There  was  no  doubt  that 
he  had  twisted  those  shaky  limbs  of  his  more  than  he  real 
ized.  He  had  wrenched  them  severely,  how  severely  he 
scarcely  dared  think.  But  they  forced  him  to  think  all  that 
night,  and  the  next  morning  Judah  insisted  on  going  for 
the  doctor. 

Doctor  Sheldon  examined  the  "spliced  timbers,"  fumed 
and  scolded  a  good  deal,  but  at  last  grudgingly  admitted  that 
no  irreparable  harm  had  been  done. 

"You're  luckier  than  you  deserve,  Cap'n,"  he  declared. 
"It's  a  wonder  you  aren't  ruined  altogether.  Now  you 
stay  right  in  that  bed  until  I  tell  you  to  get  up.  And  that 
won't  be  to-day,  or  to-morrow  either.  Perhaps  the  day 
after  that — well,  we'll  see.  But  those  legs  .of  yours  need 
absolute  rest.  Judah,  you  see  that  they  get  it,  will  you? 
If  he  tries  to  get  up  you  knock  him  back  again.  Those  are 
orders.  Understand  ?" 

"Aye,  aye,  sir,"  replied  Judah,  promptly.  "I'll  have  a 
handspike  handy.  He  won't  turn  out,  I'll  see  to  it." 

Sears'  protestations  that  he  couldn't  waste  time  in  bed, 
that  he  had  too  many  important  things  to  attend  to,  went 

226 


FAIR    HARBOR  227 


for  nothing.  According  to  Sheldon  and  Judah  his  legs  were 
the  only  things  of  real  importance  just  then  and  they 
needed  absolute  rest.  Down  inside  him  the  captain  real 
ized  that  this  was  true,  and  so  grumblingly  resigned  him 
self  to  the  two  days  of  imprisonment.  With  the  most  re 
cent  issues  of  the  Cape  Cod  Item  and  one  or  two  books  from 
the  shelves  in  the  sitting  room  closet,  books  of  the  vintage 
of  the  '4o's  and  '5o's,  but  fortunately  of  a  strong  sea  flavor, 
he  endeavored  to  console  himself,  while  Judah  attended  to 
the  household  duties  or  went  down  town  on  errands. 

Elizabeth  called  that  first  forenoon,  but  did  not  see  him. 
The  doctor  had  warned  Judah  to  head  off  visitors.  "They 
may  not  do  any  harm,  but  they  certainly  won't  do  any  good, 
and  I  want  him  to  have  absolute  rest,"  said  Sheldon.  So 
Judah  guarded  the  outer  portal,  and,  when  he  went  out, 
hung  up  a  warning  placard.  "OUT.  NO  ADMITENTS. 
DOORS  LOKED.  KEY  UNDER  MAT."  The  informa 
tion  concerning  the  key  was  for  the  doctor's  benefit. 

But  Elizabeth  sent  her  good  wishes  and  sympathy.  So 
did  her  mother.  So,  too,  did  Esther  Tidditt,  and  Miss 
Snowden,  and  Miss  Peasley,  and  in  fact  all  the  Fair  Harbor 
inmates.  For  the  first  day  Mr.  Cahoon  was  kept  busy 
transmitting  messages  to  the  spare  stateroom. 

But  about  this  time  Bayport  began  to  rock  with  a  new 
series  of  sensations  and,  except  by  the  very  few,  Captain 
Kendrick  was  forgotten.  The  news  of  Judge  Knowles'  va 
rious  legacies  became  known  and  spread  through  the  vil 
lage  like  fire  in  a  patch  of  dead  weeds.  The  Fair  Harbor 
sat  up  nearly  all  of  one  night  discussing  and  commenting 
upon  the  good  fortune  which  had  befallen  the  Berrys.  And 
by  no  means  all  of  the  time  was  used  in  congratulations. 

"Humph!"  sniffed  Susanna  Brackett,  her  lips  squeezed 
so  tightly  together  that  her  mustache  stood  on  end. 
"Humph !" 

Miss  Snowden  nodded.  "Of  course,"  she  said,  "I'm  not 
a  person  to  hint,  or  anything  of  that  sort.  But — but  if 
somebody '11  tell  me  why  the  judge  left  all  that  money  to  her 
I  should  like  to  hear  'em." 


228  FAIR    HARBOR 


Mrs.  Bracket!  opened  her  lips  sufficiently  to  observe  that 
so  should  she.  "Of  course,"  she  added,  "the  five  thousand 
that  Lobelia  left  Cordelia  might  have  been  expected,  they 
was  real  friendly  always.  But  why  did  Judge  Knowles 
leave  it  all  to  Elizabeth  and  not  one  cent  to  her  mother? 
That  I  can't  understand." 

Miss  Peasley  smiled.  "We  used  to  wonder  why  Eliza 
beth  kept  runnin'  to  the  judge's  all  the  time,"  she  said.  "He 
was  sick  and  feeble  and  we  thought  'twas  queer  her  pes- 
terin'  him  so.  Now — well,  it  pays  to  hang  around  sick  folks, 
don't  it?  They're  easier  to  coax,  maybe,  than  the  well 
kind.  .  .  .  Course  I  ain't  say  in'  there  was  any  coaxin' 
done." 

Little  Mrs.  Tidditt's  feathers  had  begun  to  rise.  "Oh, 
no!"  she  snapped.  "You  ain't  sayin'  anything,  any  of  you. 
Judge  Knowles  was  business  head  of  this — this  old  cats' 
home  afore  he  app'inted  Cap'n  Kendrick  to  the  job,  and 
you  know  that.  Elizabeth  had  to  go  to  him  about  all  sorts 
of  money  matters,  and  you  know  that,  too.  As  for  her 
tryin'  to  coax  him  to  leave  her  money,  that's  just  rubbish. 
He  always  liked  her,  thought  the  world  of  her  ever  since  she 
was  a  little  girl,  and  he  left  her  the  twenty  thousand  because 
of  that  and  for  no  other  reason.  That's  why  /  think  he  left 
it  to  her;  but,  if  some  of  the  rest  of  you  would  be  better 
satisfied,  I'll  tell  her  what  you  say — or  ain't  sayin',  Desire — 
and  let  her  answer  it  herself." 

This  not  being  at  all  what  Miss  Peasley  and  the  others 
wished,  no  more  was  said  about  undue  influence  at  the  time. 
But  much  was  said  at  times  when  the  pugnacious  Esther 
was  not  present,  and  there  was  marked  speculation  con 
cerning  what  Miss  Berry  would  do  with  her  money,  what 
Mr.  Phillips  would  do  when  he  returned  to  Bayport,  whether 
or  not  Cordelia  Berry  would  continue  to  be  matron  at  the 
Harbor,  and  what  Sears  Kendrick's  plans  for  the  future 
might  be. 

"Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Brackett,  "the  judge  fixed  it  so 
he  would  get  his  fifteen  hundred  so  long  as  he  stays  man 
ager.  But  will  he  stay  long?  There's  Mr.  Phillips  to  be 


FAIR    HARBOR  229 


considered  now,  I  should  think.  He'll  have  somethin'  to 
say  about  the — er — retreat  his  wife  founded,  won't  he?" 

Mrs.  Constance  Cahoon  made  a  remark. 

"George  Kent'll  come  in  for  a  nice  windfall  some  of 
these  days,  it  looks  like,"  she  observed,  significantly. 
"What  makes  you  look  so  funny,  Elviry?" 

Miss  Snowden  smiled.     "Will  he?"  she  inquired. 

"Well,  won't  he?    When  he  marries  Elizabeth " 

"Yes.    Yes,  when  he  does." 

"Well,  he's  goin'  to,  ain't  he?  Why,  he's  been  keepin' 
comp'ny  with  her  for  two  years.  Everybody  cal'Iates  they're 
engaged." 

"Yes.  But  they  don't  say  they  are Oh,  what  is 

is.  Aurora?" 

Mrs.  Chase,  who  had  been  listening  with  her  hand  at  her 
ears,  had  caught  a  little  of  the  conversation. 

"If  you  mean  her  and  George  Kent  is  engaged,  Con 
stance,"  she  declared,  "they  ain't.  I  asked  Elizabeth  if 
they  was,  myself,  asked  her  much  as  a  month  ago,  and  she 
said  no.  Pretty  nigh  took  my  head  off,  too." 

Elvira's  smile  broadened.  She  nodded,  slowly  and  with 
mysterious  significance.  "I'm  not  so  sure  about  that  en 
gagement,"  she  observed.  "Some  things  I've  seen  lately 
have  set  me  to  thinking.  To  thinking  a  good  deal.  .  .  . 
Um  .  .  .  yes.  It  looks  to  me  as  if  somebody — somebody,  I 
mention  no  names — may  have  had  a  hint  of  what  was  com 
ing  and  began  to  lay  plans  according.  .  .  .  No,  I  shan't 
say  any  more — now.  And  I  give  in  that  it  seems  too  per 
fectly  ridiculous  to  believe.  But  things  like  that  sometimes 
do  happen,  and  .  .  .  Well,  we'll  wait  and  see." 

Happy  in  the  knowledge  that  she  had  aroused  curiosity 
as  well  as  envy  of  her  superior  knowledge,  she  subsided. 
Mrs.  Tidditt  concluded  that  portion  of  the  discussion. 

"Well,"  she  remarked,  crisply,  "I  don't  see  why  we  need 
to  sit  here  talkin'  about  engagements  or  folks'  gettin'  mar 
ried.  Nobody  has  shown  any  symptoms  of  wantin'  to  marry 
any  of  this  crowd,  so  far  as  I  can  make  out." 

While  the  town  was  at  the  very  height  of  its  agitation 


230  FAIR    HARBOR 


concerning  the  Knowles  will,  there  came  another  earth 
quake.  Egbert  Phillips  returned.  He  alighted  from  the 
train  at  the  Bayport  depot  on  the  second  morning  of  Sears's 
imprisonment  in  the  spare  stateroom  and  before  night  the 
information  that  he  imparted — confidentially,  of  course — 
and  the  hints  he  gave  concerning  his  plans  for  the  future, 
made  the  Berry  legacies  and  all  the  other  legacies  take  sec 
ond  place  as  gossip  kindlers. 

Judah  came  rushing  into  the  house  later  that  afternoon, 
his  arms  full  of  bundles — purchases  at  Eliphalet's  store — 
and  his  mouth  full  of  words.  He  dropped  everything,  eggs, 
salt  fish,  tea  and  shoe  laces,  on  the  kitchen  table  and  tore 
pell-mell  into  his  lodger's  bedroom.  Captain  Kendrick, 
propped  up  with  pillows,  was  of  course  stretched  out  in  bed. 
There  was  what  appeared  to  be  a  letter  in  his  hand,  a  letter 
apparently  just  received,  for  a  recently  opened  envelope 
lay  on  the  comforter  beside  him,  and  upon  his  face  was  an 
expression  of  bewilderment,  surprise  and  marked  concern. 
Judah  was  too  intent  upon  his  news  to  notice  anything  else 
and  Sears  hastily  gathered  up  letter  and  envelope  and  thrust 
them  beneath  the  pillow.  Then  Judah  broke  loose. 

Egbert  had  come  back,  had  come  back  to  Bayport  to  live, 
for  good.  He  had  come  on  the  morning  train.  Lots  of 
folks  saw  him ;  some  of  them  had  talked  with  him.  "And 
what  do  you  cal'late,  Cap'n  Sears?  You'll  never  guess  in 
this  world !  By  the  crawlin'  prophets,  he  swears  he  ain't 
rich,  the  way  all  hands  figured  out  he  was.  No,  sir,  he 
ain't !  'Cordin'  to  his  tell  he  ain't  got  no  money  at  all, 
scurcely.  All  them  stocks  and — and  bonds  and — and  securi- 
tums  and  such  like  have  gone  on  the  rocks.  They  was  un- 
fort'nate  infestments,  he  says.  He  says  he's  in  straightened 
out  circumstances,  whatever  they  be,  but  he's  come  back 
here  to  spend  his  declinin'  days — that's  what  Joe  Macomber 
says  he  called  'em,  his  declinin'  days — in  Bayport,  'cause  he 
loves  the  old  place,  'count  of  Lobelia,  his  wife,  lovin'  it  so, 
and  he  can  maybe  scratch  along  here  on  what  income  he's 
got,  and — and " 

And   so   on,   for   sentence   after   sentence.      Sears   heard 


FAIR    HARBOR  231 


some  of  it,  but  not  all.  The  letter  he  had  just  read — the 
letter  from  Judge  Knowles  which  Bradley  had  handed  him 
before  he  left  Orham — was  of  itself  too  startling  and  dis 
turbing  to  be  dismissed  from  his  thoughts ;  but  he  heard 
some,  enough  to  make  him  realize  that  there  might  be,  in 
all  probability  was,  trouble  ahead.  Just  why  Phillips  had 
returned  to  Bayport,  to  take  up  his  abode  there  perma 
nently,  was  hard  to  understand,  but  there  certainly  must 
be  some  reason  beside  his  "love"  for  the  place  and  its  people. 
Neither  place  nor  people  should,  so  it  seemed  to  the  captain, 
appeal  strongly  to  a  citizen  of  the  world,  of  the  fashionable 
world,  like  Mr.  Egbert  Phillips.  It  is  true  that  he  might 
perhaps  live  cheaper  there  than  in  most  communities,  but 
still  .  .  .  No,  Sears  was  sure  that  the  former  singing 
teacher  had  returned  to  the  Cape  in  pursuance  of  a  plan. 
What  that  plan  might  be  he  could  not  guess,  unless  the 
widower  contemplated  contesting  his  wife's  gift  to  the  Fair 
Harbor.  That  would  be  a  losing  fight,  was  certain  to  be, 
for  Judge  Knowles  had  seen  to  that.  But  if  not  that — 
what? 

He  gave  very  little  thought  to  the  matter  at  the  time,  for 
Judge  Knowles'  letter  and  its  astounding  proposition  were 
monopolizing  his  mental  machinery.  That  letter  would  have, 
as  he  might  have  expressed  it,  knocked  him  on  his  beam 
ends  even  if  the  Foam  Flake's  unexpected  outbreak  had  not 
knocked  him  there  already.  The  letter  was  rather  long,  but 
it  was  to  the  point,  nevertheless.  Judge  Knowles  begged 
him — him,  Sears  Kendrick — to  accept  the  appointment  of 
trustee  in  charge  of  Elizabeth  Berry's  twenty  thousand  dol 
lar  inheritance.  The  latter  was  hers  in  trust  until  she  was 
thirty. 

"I  have  seen  enough  of  you  to  believe  in  you,  Kendrick," 
so  the  judge  had  written.  "Besides,  you  know  the  Berrys, 
mother  and  daughter,  by  this  time,  better  than  any  one  else — 
even  Bradley — and  you  know  my  opinion  of  Cordelia's  head 
piece.  I  don't  want  her  soft-headedness  or  foolishness  to 
get  any  of  Elizabeth's  money  away  from  her.  Elizabeth  is 
a  dutiful  daugther  and  an  unselfish  girl  and  she  may  feel — 


232  FAIR    HARBOR 


or  be  led  to  feel — that  her  mother  ought  to  have  this  money 
or  a  large  part  of  it.  I  don't  want  this  to  happen.  Of 
course  I  expect  Elizabeth  to  share  her  income  with  her 
mother,  but  I  don't  want  the  principal  disturbed.  After  she 
is  thirty  she  can,  of  course,  do  what  she  likes  with  it,  but 
that  time  isn't  now  by  some  years.  And  then  there  is  that 
Egbert.  Look  out  for  him.  I  say  again,  look  out  for  him. 
If  he  ever  got  a  penny  of  this  money  I  should  turn  over  in 
my  grave.  Perhaps  you  think  I  am  an  old  fool  and  am 
treating  him  with  more  seriousness  than  he  deserves^  You 
won't  think  so  when  you  know  him  as  well  as  I  do,  mark 
my  words.  And  I  think  you  are  the  one  man  around  here 
that  has  had  worldly  experience  enough,  backed  by  brains 
and  common-sense,  to  see  through  him  and  handle  him.  I 
don't  mean  that  there  aren't  other  smart  men  in  town,  but 
most  of  the  smartest  are  in  active  service  and  at  sea  a  good 
share  of  the  time.  You  will  be  right  here  for  a  few  years 
at  least.  And  you  are  honest,  and  you  like  Elizabeth  Berry, 
and  will  look  out  for  her  interests.  .  .  .  Of  course  I  can't 
compel  you  to  take  this  trusteeship,  but  I  hope  you  will,  as 
a  favor  to  her  and  to  me.  I  have  written  her  a  letter 
similar  to  this,  but  I  have  left  her  a  free  choice  in  the  mat 
ter.  If  she  does  not  want  you  for  her  trustee  then  that 
ends  it.  Being  the  kind  of  girl  she  is,  I  think  she  will  be 
mighty  glad  to  have  you.  .  .  ." 

And  this  was  the  proposition  which  was  causing  the  cap 
tain  so  much  anxiety  and  perplexity.  It  interfered  with  the 
sleep  which  Doctor  Sheldon  seemed  to  feel  necessary  to  his 
patient's  complete  recovery  from  the  setback.  It  prevented 
his  keeping  those  damaged  legs  of  his  absolutely  quiet. 
Time  and  time  again  Judah,  at  work  in  what  he  always  re 
ferred  to  as  the  "galley,"  heard  his  lodger  tossing  about  in 
the  spare  stateroom  and  occasionally  muttering  to  himself. 

For  Sears,  facing  the  problem  of  accepting  or  declining 
the  trust,  was  quite  aware  that  the  dilemma  upon  which  the 
judge  had  perched  him  had  two  very  sharp  horns.  If  he 
declined — always  of  course  supposing  that  Elizabeth  Berry 
asked  him  to  accept — if  he  declined  he  would  be  acting  con- 


FAIR    HARBOR  233 


trary  to  her  wishes  and  Judge  Knowles'.  If  he  did  decline, 
then  Bradley  would  be  the  trustee.  Knowles,  in  a  part  of 
the  letter  not  quoted,  had  said  that  he  imagined  that  would 
have  to  be  the  alternative.  And  Bradley — a  good  man,  an 
honest  and  capable  man — was  not  a  resident  of  Bayport 
and  could  not,  as  he  could,  keep  an  eye  upon  the  Berrys 
nor  upon  those  who  might  try  to  influence  them.  And 
Bradley  did  not  know  Bayport  as  he,  Kendrick,  did. 

But  on  the  other  hand,  suppose  Elizabeth  begged  him  to 
take  the  trusteeship  and  he  did  take  it?  To  begin  with,  he 
dreaded  the  added  responsibility  and  distrusted  his  ability  to 
handle  investments.  His  record  as  a  business  man  ashore 
was  brief  enough  and  not  of  a  kind  to  inspire  self-confi 
dence.  And  what  would  people  say  concerning  it  and  him? 
He  and  Elizabeth  were  in  daily  contact.  Their  association 
in  the  management  of  the  Fair  Harbor  was  close  already. 
If  he  should  be  given  charge  of  her  fortune — for  it  was  a 
fortune,  in  Bayport  eyes — would  not  his  every  action  be 
liable  to  misconstruction?  Would  not  malicious  gossip  be 
gin  to  whisper  all  sorts  of  things?  To  misconstrue  motives 
and  .  .  .  ?  Perhaps  they  were  already  whispering.  He 
had  seen  Elvira  Snowden  but  once  since  she  and  Mrs. 
Chase  surprised  him  and  Elizabeth  in  the  Eyrie,  but  on  that 
one  occasion  Elvira  had,  so  it  seemed  to  him,  looked  queer — 
and  knowing.  It  was  foolish,  of  course ;  it  was  ridiculous, 
and  wicked.  He  and  Elizabeth  were  friendly,  had  come  to 
be  very  good  friends  indeed,  but 

And  here  his  train  of  thought  stopped  dead,  while  the 
same  guilty  shiver  he  had  before  felt  ran  up  and  down  his 
spine.  .  .  .  Good  Lord  above!  what  was  he  thinking  of? 
What  could  be  the  matter  with  him?  Why,  even  if  things 
were  as  they  had  been  he  would  be  crazy  to  ...  And  now 
she  was  a  rich  woman,  rich  compared  to  him,  at  least. 

No!  And  over  and  over  again,  No!  He  would  decline 
the  trusteeship.  And  he  would  make  it  his  business  to  get 
well  and  to  sea  again  as  soon  as  possible.  As  soon  as  she 
came  to  him  to  mention  the  judge's  letter  and  its  insane  re 
quest  he  would  settle  that  proposal  once  and  for  all. 


234  FAIR    HARBOR 


But  she  did  not  come.  On  the  third  day  the  doctor  re 
fused  to  permit  him  to  leave  the  bed. 

"You  stay  where  you  are  for  another  two  days,"  com 
manded  Sheldon.  "It  will  do  you  good,  and  while  I'm  boss 
you  shan't  take  chances.  Cahoon  and  I  have  got  you  where 
we  want  you  now  and  we'll  keep  you  there  till  we  pipe  you 
on  deck.  Eh,  Judah?" 

Judah  grinned.  "Aye,  aye,"  was  his  rejoinder.  "Got  the 
handspike  ready  to  my  fist,  Doctor.  He'll  stay  put  if  I  have 
to  lash  him  to  the  bunk  with  a  chain  cable.  It's  all  for 
your  good,  Cap'n  Sears.  That's  what  my  ma  used  to  tell 
me  when  she  dosed  me  up  every  spring  with  brimstone  and 
molasses." 

So,  reluctantly  realizing  that  it  was  for  his  good,  Sears 
"stayed  put."  He  had  a  few  callers,  although  Judah  saw 
to  it  that  their  calls  were  brief.  Elizabeth  was  not  one  of 
these.  She  came  at  least  once  a  day  to  inquire  about  him, 
but  she  did  not  ask  to  see  him.  The  captain,  trying  not 
to  be  disappointed,  endeavored  to  console  himself  with  the 
idea  that  she  was  following  Judge  Knowles'  advice,  as  re 
peated  by  Bradley,  and  meant  to  take  plenty  of  time  before 
making  up  her  mind  concerning  the  trusteeship. 

One  of  his  visitors  was  George  Kent.  On  the  fourth 
day,  on  his  way  to  the  Macombers  for  dinner,  the  young 
fellow  called  at  the  Minot  place.  Judah  was  out,  but  Sears 
heard  his  visitor's  voice  and  step  through  the  open  doors  of 
the  dining  room  and  kitchen  and  shouted  to  him  to  come  in. 
His  manner  when  he  entered  was,  so  it  seemed  to  the  cap 
tain,  a  trifle  constrained,  but  his  inquiries  concerning  the 
latter's  health  were  cordial  enough.  As  for  Sears,  he,  of 
course,  made  it  a  point  to  be  especially  cordial. 

They  talked  of  many  things,  but  not  of  their  recent  en 
counter  on  the  Orham  road.  Sears  did  not  like  to  be  the 
first  to  mention  it  and  it  appeared  as  if  Kent  wished  to  avoid 
it  altogether.  But  at  last,  after  a  short  interval  of  silence, 
a  break  in  the  conversation,  he  did  refer  to  it. 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  he  said,  reddening  and  looking  rather 
nervous  and  uncomfortable,  "I — I  suppose  you  thought  I 


FAIR   HARBOR 235 

was — was  pretty  disagreeable  the  other  evening.  I  mean 
when  we  met  in  the  rain  and  Elizabeth  was  with  you." 

"Eh?     Disagreeable?" 

"Yes.  I  wasn't  very  pleasant,  I  know.  I'm  sorry.  That 
— that  was  one  of  the  things  I  came  to  say.  I  lost  my  tem 
per,  I  guess." 

"Well,  if  you  did  I  don't  know  as  I  blame  you,  George. 
A  night  like  that  is  enough  to  lose  any  one's  temper.  I 
lost  mine.  The  Foam  Flake  ran  away  with  it.  But  he's 
repentin'  in  sackcloth  and  ashes,  I  guess.  Judah  says  the 
old  horse  is  lamer  than  I  am." 

He  laughed  heartily.  Kent's  laugh  was  short.  His  un 
easiness  seemed  to  increase. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  returning  to  the  subject  which  was  evi 
dently  uppermost  in  his  mind.  "Yes,  I  did — er — lose  my 
temper,  perhaps.  But — but  it  seems  almost  as  if  I  had  a — 
er — well,  some  excuse.  You  see — well,  you  see,  Cap'n 
Kendrick,  I  didn't  like  it  very  much,  the  idea  of  Elizabeth's 
going  over  to  Orham  with — with  you,  you  know." 

Sears  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "Why,  she  went  with 
me  because  it  was  the  simplest  way  to  get  there,"  he  ex 
plained.  "I  was  goin'  anyhow,  and  Bradley  had  asked  her 
to  be  there,  too.  So,  it  was  natural  enough  that  we  should 
go  together." 

"Well — well,  I  don't  see  why  she  didn't  tell  me  she  was 
going." 

"Perhaps  she  didn't  think  to  tell  you." 

"Nonsense!  ...  I  mean  .  .  .  Well,  anyhow,  if  she 
had  told  me  I  should  have  looked  out  for  her,  of  course.  I 
could  have  hired  a  rig  and  driven  her  over." 

"But  she  knew  you  were  at  work  down  at  the  store.  She 
said  that,  didn't  she?  Seems  to  me  I  remember  hearin'  her 
say  that  she  didn't  want  you  to — to  feel  that  you  must  take 
the  afternoon  off  on  her  account." 

The  young  man  stirred  impatiently.  "That's  foolishness," 
he  declared.  "She  seems  to  think  Bassett  has  a  mortgage  on 
my  life.  He  hasn't,  not  by  a  long  shot.  I  don't  mean  to 


236  FAIR    HARBOR 


keep  his  books  much  longer ;  I've  got  other  things  to  attend 
to.  My  law  is  getting  on  pretty  well." 

"Glad  to  hear  it,  George." 

"Yes.  I  shall  read  with  Bradley  for  a  while  longer,  of 
course,  but  after  that — well,  I  don't  know.  I  was  talking 
with — with  a  man  who  has  had  a  good  deal  of  experience 
with  lawyers — real  city  lawyers,  not  the  one-horse  sort — 
and  he  says  the  thing  for  an  ambitious  young  fellow  to  do 
is  to  get  into  one  of  those  city  offices.  Then  you  have  a 
chance." 

"Oh — I  see.  But  isn't  it  kind  of  hard  to  get  in,  unless 
you  have  some  acquaintance  or  influence?" 

"I  don't  know  as  it  is.  And  I  guess  this  man  will  help 
me  if  I  want  him  to." 

"So?    That's  good.     Did  he  say  he  would?" 

"No-o,  not  exactly,  but  I  think  he  will.  And  he's  got  the 
acquaintances,  all  right  enough.  He  knows  almost  every 
body  that's  worth  while." 

"That's  the  kind  to  tie  to.  Who  is  he?  Somebody  up 
in  Boston?" 

George  shifted  again.  "I'd  rather  not  mention  his  name 
just  now,"  he  said.  "Our  talks  have  been  rather — er — con 
fidential  and  I  don't  know  that  I  should  have  said  anything 
about  them.  But  I've  got  plans,  you  see.  Then  there  is 
my  aunt's  estate.  I  am  the  administrator  of  that." 

"Oh?     I  didn't  know.     Your  aunt,  eh?" 

"Yes,  my  Aunt  Charlotte,  mother's  sister.  She  was  single 
and  lived  up  in  Meriden,  Connecticut.  She  died  about  a 
month  ago  and  left  everything  to  my  half-sister  and  me — 
my  married  sister  in  Springfield,  you  know.  I  have  charge 
of — of  the  estate,  settling  it  and  all  that." 

Sears  smiled  inwardly  at  the  self-satisfaction  with  which 
the  word  "estate"  was  uttered.  But  outwardly  he  was  seri 
ous  enough. 

"Good  for  you,  George!"  he  exclaimed.  "Congratula 
tions.  I  hope  you've  come  in  for  a  big  thing." 

His  visitor  colored  slightly.  "Well — well,  of  course,"  he 
admitted,  "the  estate  isn't  very  large,  but " 


FAIR   HARBOR  237 


"But  it's  an  estate.     I'm  glad  for  you,  son." 

"Yes — er — yes.  .  .  .  But  really,  Cap'n,  I  didn't  mean  to 
talk  about  that.  I — I  just  wanted  to  say  that — that  I  was 
sorry  if  I — er — wasn't  as  polite  as  I  might  have  been  the 
other  night,  and — well,  I  thought — it  seemed  as  if  I — I 
ought  to  say — to  say " 

Whatever  it  was  it  seemed  to  be  hard  to  say.  The  cap 
tain  tried  to  help. 

"Yes,  of  course,  George,"  he  prompted.  "Heave  ahead 
and  say  it." 

"Well— well,  it's  just  this,  Cap'n  Kendrick:  Elizabeth 
and  you  are — are  together  a  good  deal,  in  the  Fair  Harbor 
affairs,  you  know,  and — and — she  doesn't  think,  of  course — 
and  you  are  a  lot  older  than  she  is — but  all  the  same " 

Sears  interrupted. 

"Here !  Hold  on,  George !"  he  put  in,  sharply.  "What's 
all  this?" 

Kent's  embarrassment  increased.  "Why — why,  nothing," 
he  stammered.  "Nothing,  of  course.  But  you  see,  Cap'n, 
people  are  silly — they  don't  stop  to  count  ages  and  things 
like  that.  They  see  you  with  her  so  much  .  .  .  And  when 
they  see  you  taking  her  to  ride — alone " 

"Here!  That'll  do !"  All  the  cordiality  had  left  the  cap 
tain's  voice.  "George,"  he  said,  after  a  moment,  "I  guess 
you'd  better  not  say  any  more.  I  don't  think  I  had  better 
hear  it.  Miss  Elizabeth  is  a  friend  of  mine.  She  is,  as  you 
say,  years  younger  than  I  am.  i  am  with  her  a  good  deal, 
have  to  be  because  of  our  Fair  Harbor  work  together.  I 
took  her  to  Orham  with  me  just  as  I'd  take  her  mother,  or 
you,  or  any  other  friend  who  had  to  go  and  wanted  a  lift. 
But — but  if  you  or  any  one  else  is  hintin'  that  .  .  .  There, 
there !  George,  don't  be  foolish.  Maybe  you'd  better  run 
along  now.  The  doctor  says  I  mustn't  get  excited." 

His  visitor  looked  remarkably  foolish,  but  the  stubborn 
ness  had  not  altogether  left  his  face  or  tone  as  he  said: 
"Well,  that's  all  right,  Cap'n.  I  knew  you  would  under 
stand.  I  didn't  mean  anything,  but — but,  you  see,  in  Eliza- 


238  FAIR    HARBOR 


beth's  case  I  feel  a — a  sort  of  responsibility.  You — you 
understand." 

Even  irritated  and  angry  as  he  was,  Sears  could  not  help 
smiling  at  the  last  sentence. 

"George,"  he  observed,  "you've  been  fairly  open  and 
aboveboard  in  your  remarks  to  me.  Suppose  I  ask  you  a 
question.  Just  what  is  your  responsibility  in  the  case?  I 
have  heard  said,  and  more  than  once,  that  you  and  Eliza 
beth  Berry  are  engaged  to  be  married.  Is  it  so?" 

The  young  man  grew  redder  yet,  hesitated,  and  turned  to 
the  door. 

"I— I'm  not  at  liberty  to  say,"  he  declared. 

"Wait !  Hold  on !  There  is  this  responsibility  business. 
If  you're  not  engaged — well,  honestly,  George,  I  don't  quite 
see  where  your  responsibility  comes  in." 

Kent  hesitated  a  moment  longer.  Then  he  seemed  to 
make  up  his  mind. 

"Well,  then,  we  are — er — er — practically,"  he  said. 

"Practically?  ...  Oh!  Well,  I— I  certainly  do  con 
gratulate  you." 

George  had  his  hand  on  the  latch,  but  turned  back. 

"Don't — please  don't  tell  any  one  of  it,"  he  said  earnestly. 
"It — it  mustn't  be  known  yet.  .  .  .  You  see,  though,  why 
I — I  feel  as  if  you — as  if  we  all  ought  to  be  very  careful 
of — of  appearances — and — and  such  things." 

"Yes Yes,  of  course.  Well,  all  right,  George. 

Good-by.  Call  again." 

Judah,  who  had  been  over  at  the  Fair  Harbor  doing  some 
general  chores  around  the  place,  came  in  a  little  later.  His 
lodger  called  to  him. 

"Judah,"  he  commanded,  "come  in  here.  I  want  to  talk 
to  you."  When  Mr.  Cahoon  obeyed  the  order,  he  was  told 
to  sit  down  a  moment. 

"I  want  to  ask  you  some  questions,"  said  the  captain. 
"What  is  the  latest  news  of  Egbert  Phillips?  Where  is  he 
nowadays?  And  what  is  he  doin'?" 

Judah  was  quite  ready  to  give  the  information,  even 
eager,  but  he  hesitated  momentarily. 


FAIR    HARBOR  239 


"Sure  you  want  me  to  talk  about  him,  Cap'n?"  he  asked. 
"Last  time  I  said  anything  about  him — day  afore  yesterday 
'twas — you  told  me  to  shut  up.  Said  you  had  somethin' 
more  important  to  think  about." 

"Did  I,  Judah?    Well,  'twas  true  then,  I  guess." 

"Um-hm.  And  you  ordered  me  not  to  mention  his  name 
again  till  you  h'isted  signals,  or  somethin'  like  that." 

"Yes,  seems  to  me  I  did.  Well,  the  signals  are  up.  What 
is  he  doin'?" 

"Doin'?  He  ain't  doin'  nothin' — much.  He's  roomin'  up 
to  the  Central  House  yet,  but  from  what  I  hear  tell  he  ain't 
goin'  to  stay  there.  He's  cal'latin',  so  the  folks  down  to  the 
store  say,  to  find  some  nice  home  place  where  he  can  board. 
He  don't  call  it  boardin'.  Thoph  Black  says  he  said  what 
he  wanted  was  a  snug  little  den  where  him  and  his  few 
remainin'  household  gods  could  be  together.  Thoph  said 
he  couldn't  make  out  what  household  gods  was,  and  I'm 
plaguey  sure  /  can't.  Sounds  heathenish  to  me.  And  I 
told  Thoph,  says  I,  'That  ain't  no  way  to  hunt  a  boardin' 
house,  goin'  round  hollerin'  for  a  den.  If  I  was  takin'  in 
boarders  and  a  feller  hove  alongside  and  says,  "Can  I  hire 
one  of  them  dens  of  yours?"  he'd  get  somethin'  that  he 
wan't  lookin'  for.'  Huh!  Den!  Sounds  like  a  circus  me 
nagerie,  don't  it?  Not  but  what  I've  seen  boardin'-house 
rooms  that  was  like  dens.  Why,  one  time,  over  in  Liver 
pool  'twas,  me  and  a  feller  named " 

"Yes,  yes,  all  right,  Judah.  I've  heard  about  it.  But 
what  else  is  he  doin'?  Where  does  he  go?  Is  he  makin' 
friends?  Is  he  talkin'  much  about  his  plans?  What  do 
folks  say  about  him?" 

Judah  answered  the  last  question  first. 

"They  like  him,"  he  declared.  "All  hands  are  so  kind  of 
sorry  for  him,  you  see.  Course  we  all  cal'lated  he  was  rich, 
but  he  ain't.  And  them  bonds  and  such  that  him  and  his 
wife  had  all  went  to  nawthin'  and  he  come  back  here  after 
she  died,  figgerin',  I  presume  likely,  same  as  anybody  would, 
that  he  owned  the  Fair  Harbor  property  and  that  the  fifty 
thousand  was  just  a  sort  of — er — loan,  as  you  might  say.  He 


24o  FAIR    HARBOR 


told  Joe  Macomber — or  George  Kent,  I  forget  which  'twas — 
he's  with  George  consider'ble ;  I  guess  likely  'twas  him — 
that,  of  course,  he  wouldn't  have  disturbed  the  property  or 
the  fifty  thousand  for  the  world,  not  for  a  long  spell  any 
how,  but  ownin'  it  give  him  a  feelin'  of  security,  like  an 
anchor  to  wind'ard,  you  understand,  and " 

"So  folks  like  him,  do  they?" 

"You  bet  you  they  do.  He  don't  complain  a  mite,  that's 
one  reason  they  like  him.  Says  at  first,  of  course,  he  was 
kind  of  took  all  aback  with  his  canvas  flappin',  but  now  he's 
thought  it  over  and  realizes  'twas  his  dear  wife's  notion  and 
her  wishes  is  law  and  gospel  to  him,  so  he's  resigned." 

"And  he  doesn't  blame  anybody,  then  ?" 

Mr.  Gaboon  hesitated.  "Why — er — no,  not  really,  fur's 
I  hear.  Anyhow,  if  there  was  any  influence  used  same  as 
it  shouldn't  be,  he  says,  he  forgives  them  that  used  it.  And, 
so  far  as  that  goes,  he  don't  repute  no  evil  motives  to  nobody, 
livin'  or  dead." 

"Repute?    Oh,  impute,  you  mean." 

"I  guess  so,  some  kind  of  'pute'.  He  uses  them  old-fash 
ioned  kind  of  words  all  the  time.  That's  why  he's  so  pop'lar 
amongst  the  Shakespeare  Readin'  Society  and  the  rest. 
They're  took  him  up,  I  tell  ye!  Minister  Dishup  and  his 
wife  they've  had  him  to  dinner,  and  Cap'n  Elkanah  and  his 
wife  have  had  him  to  supper  and  yesterday  noon  he  was  up 
here  to  the  Harbor  for  dinner." 

"Oh,  was  he?" 

"Yus.  He  made  'em  a  little  speech,  too.  All  hands  came 
into  the  parlor  after  dinner  and  he  kind  of — of  preached  to 
'em.  Told  about  his  travelin'  in  foreign  lands  and  a  lot 
about  Lobelia  and  how  she  loved  the  Harbor  and  everybody 
in  it,  and  how  him  and  her  used  to  plan  for  it,  and  the  like 
of  that.  Desire  Peasley  told  me  that  'twas  the  most  movin' 
talk  ever  she  listened  to.  Said  about  everybody  was  cryin* 
some.  Twas  a  leaky  session,  I  judged.  Oh,  they  love  him 
over  to  the  Harbor,  I  tell  you !" 

The  captain  was  silent  for  a  moment.     Then  he  asked, 


FAIR    HARBOR  241 


"Did  I  understand  you  to  say  he  and  young  Kent  were 
friendly?" 

"Yes,  indeed.  He  seems  to  have  took  quite  a  fancy  to 
George.  Drops  in  to  see  him  at  the  store  and  last  night  he 
went  home  along  with  him  to  your  sister's — to  Sary's.  Had 
supper  and  spent  the  evenin',  I  believe." 

Judah  was  dismissed  then  and  the  talk  ended,  but  Sears 
had  now  something  else  to  think  about.  There  was  little 
doubt  in  his  mind  who  the  "man  of  experience"  was,  the 
person  who  had  advised  Kent  concerning  the  getting  of  a 
position  with  a  law  firm  in  the  city.  He  wondered  what 
other  advice  might  have  been  given.  Was  it  Mr.  Phillips 
who  had  suggested  to  Kent  the  impropriety  of  Elizabeth's 
being  seen  so  much  in  his — Kendrick's — company?  If  so, 
why  had  he  done  it?  What  was  Egbert's  little  plan? 

Of  course  it  was  possible  that  there  was  no  plan  of  any 
kind.  Sears  had  taken  a  dislike  to  Phillips  when  they  met 
and  that  fact,  and  Judge  Knowles'  hatred  of  the  man,  might, 
he  realized,  have  set  him  to  hunting  mares'  nests.  Well,  he 
would  not  hunt  any  more  at  present.  He  would  await  de 
velopments.  But  he  would  not  lie  in  that  bed  and  wait  for 
them.  He  had  been  there  long  enough.  In  spite  of  Judah's 
protests  and  with  the  latter's  help,  commandeered  and  in 
sisted  upon,  he  got  up,  dressed,  and  spent  the  rest  of  that 
afternoon  and  evening  in  the  rocking  chair  in  the  kitchen. 

And  that  evening  Elizabeth  came  to  see  him.  He  was 
almost  sure  why  she  had  come,  and  as  soon  as  she  entered, 
sent  Judah  down  town  after  smoking  tobacco.  Judah  de 
clared  there  was  "up'ards  of  ha'f  a  plug  aboard  the  ship 
somewheres"  and  wanted  to  stay  and  hunt  for  it,  but  the 
captain,  who  had  the  plug  in  his  pocket,  insisted  on  his  going. 
So  he  went  and  Sears  and  Elizabeth  were  alone.  He  was 
ready  for  the  interview.  If  she  asked  him  to  accept  the 
trusteeship  of  her  twenty  thousand  dollars  he  meant  to  re 
fuse,  absolutely. 

And  she  did  ask  him  that  very  thing.  After  inquiries 
concerning  his  injured  limbs  and  repeated  cautions  concern 
ing  his  never  taking  such  risks  again,  "even  with  the  old 


242  FAIR    HARBOR 


Foam  Flakes,"  she  came  directly  to  the  subject.  She  spoke 
of  Judge  Knowles'  letter  to  her,  the  letter  which  Bradley 
had  handed  her  at  the  time  when  he  gave  Sears  his.  She 
had  read  it  over  and  over  again,  she  said. 

"You  know  what  he  wrote  me,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  went 
on.  "I  can't  show  you  the  letter,  it  is  too  personal,  too — too 
.  .  .  Oh,  I  can't  show  it  to  any  one — now,  not  even  to 
mother.  But  you  must  know  what  he  asked — or  suggested, 
because  he  says  he  has  written  you  a  letter  asking  you  to 
take  charge  of  my  money  for  me,  to  be  my  trustee.  I  sup 
pose  you  must  think  it  queer  that  I  have  let  all  these  days 
go  by  without  coming  to  speak  with  you  about  it.  I 
hope " 

He  interrupted.  "Now,  Elizabeth,  before  we  go  any  fur 
ther,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "don't  you  suppose  any  such  thing. 
The  judge  wrote  me  he  had  asked  us  both  not  to  decide  in 
a  hurry,  but  to  take  plenty  of  time  to  think  it  over.  I  have 
thought  it  over,  in  fact,  I  haven't  thought  of  much  else  since 
I  opened  that  letter,  and  I  have  made  up  my  mind " 

"Wait.  Please  wait  a  minute.  I  haven't  been  taking  time 
to  think  over  that  at  all.  I  have  been  thinking  about  the 
whole  matter ;  whether  I  should  accept  the  money — so  very, 
very,  very  much  money " 

"What!  Not  accept  it?  Of  course  you'll  take  it.  He 
wanted  you  to  take  it.  It  was  what  he  wanted  as  much  as 
anybody  could  want  anything.  "Why,  don't  you  dare " 

"Hush!  hush!  You  mustn't  be  so  excited.  And  you 
mustn't  move  from  that  chair.  If  you  do  I  shall  go  home 
this  minute.  I  am  going  to  accept  the  money." 

"Good !    Of  course  you  are." 

"Yes,  I  am.  Because  I  do  believe  that  he  wanted  me  to 
have  it  so  much.  I  know  people  will  say — perhaps  they  are 
already  saying  all  sorts  of  wicked,  mean  things.  I  don't — 
I  won*t  let  myself  think  what  some  of  them  may  be  saying 
about  my  influencing  the  judge,  or  things  like  that.  But  I 
don't  care — that  is,  I  care  ever  so  much  more  for  what  he 
said  and  what  he  wished.  And  he  wanted  you  to  take  care 


FAIR    HARBOR  243 


of  the  money  for  me.  You  will,  won't  you,  Cap'n  Ken- 
drick?" 

Now  it  was  Sears'  turn.  He  had  gone  over  a  scene  like 
this,  the  scene  which  he  had  foreseen,  many  times.  He  was 
kind,  but  he  was  firm.  He  told  her  that  he  should  not  ac 
cept  the  trusteeship.  He  could  not.  It  was  too  great  a  re 
sponsibility  for  a  man  with  as  little — and  that  little  unfor 
tunate — business  experience  as  he  had  had. 

"It  needs  a  banker  or  a  lawyer  for  that  job,  Elizabeth," 
he  declared.  "What  does  a  sailor  know  about  handlin' 
money  ?  You  go  to  Bradley ;  Bradley's  the  man." 

But  she  did  not  want  Bradley.  The  judge  only  mentioned 
Bradley  as  second  choice. 

"He  wanted  you,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  He  had  every  confi 
dence  in  you.  You  should  see  what  he  says  about  your 
ability  and  common-sense  and — and  honesty  in  the  letter. 
Please." 

"No,  Elizabeth.  As  far  as  honesty  goes  I  guess  he's  right. 
I  am  honest,  at  least  I  hope  I  should  be.  But  for  the  rest 
— he's  partial  there.  He  seemed  to  take  a  fancy  to  me,  and 
goodness  knows  I  liked  him.  But  you  mustn't  feel  you've 
got  to  do  this  thing.  He  wrote  me  it  was  only  a  suggestion. 
You  are  absolutely  free — he  wrote  me  so — to  go  to  Bradley 
or " 

"No."  She  rose  to  her  feet.  "I  shan't  go  to  Bradley  or 
anybody  but  you.  I  am  like  him,  Cap'n  Kendrick ;  I  trust 
you.  I  have  come  to  know  you  and  to  believe  in  you.  I 
like  you.  Why,  you  don't  know  how  glad  I  was  to  find 
that  he  wanted  you  to  do  this  for  me.  Glad !  I — I  felt " 

"Why,  Elizabeth !" 

He  had  not  meant  to  speak.  The  words  were  forced 
from  him  involuntarily.  Her  tone,  her  eyes,  the  eager 
earnestness  in  her  voice.  .  .  .  He  did  not  say  any  more, 
nor  did  he  look  at  her.  Instead  he  looked  at  the  patchwork- 
comforter  which  had  fallen  from  his  knees  to  the  floor,  and 
fervently  hoped  that  he  had  not  already  said  too  much.  He 
stooped  and  picked  up  the  comforter. 

"And  you  will  do  it  for  me,  won't  you?"  she  pleaded. 


244  FAIR    HARBOR 


"I  can't.    It  wouldn't  be  right." 

"Then  I  shall  not  take  the  money  at  all.  He  gave  it  to  me, 
he  asked  me — the  very  last  thing  he  asked  was  that  you 
should  do  it.  He  put  the  trust  in  your  hands.  And  you 
won't  do  it — for  him — or  for  me?" 

"Well,  but— but Oh,  good  Lord!  how  can  I?" 

"Why  can't  you?" 

The  real  reason  he  could  not  tell  her.  According  to  Kent 
— whether  inspired  by  Phillips  or  not  made  little  difference 
— people  were  already  whispering  and  hinting.  How  much 
more  would  they  hint  and  whisper  if  they  knew  that  he  had 
taken  charge  of  her  money?  The  thought  had  not  occurred 
to  her,  of  course;  the  very  idea  was  too  ridiculous  for  her 
to  imagine ;  but  that  made  but  one  more  reason  why  he  must 
think  for  her. 

"No,"  he  said,  again.    "No,  I  can't." 

"But  why  ?    You  haven't  told  me  why." 

He  tried  to  tell  her  why,  but  his  words  were  merely  repe 
titions  of  what  he  had  said  before.  He  was  not  a  good 
business  man,  he  did  not  know  how  to  handle  money,  even 
his  own  money.  The  judge  had  been  very  ill  when  he  wrote 
those  letters,  if  he  had  been  well  and  himself  he  never  would 
have  thought  of  him  as  trustee.  She  listened  for  a  time, 
her  impatience  growing.  Then  she  rose. 

"Very  well,"  she  said.  "Then  I  shall  not  accept  the  twenty 
thousand.  To  me  one  wish  of  Judge  Knowles'  is  as  sacred 
as  the  other.  He  wanted  you  to  take  that  trust  just  as  much 
as  he  wanted  me  to  have  the  money.  If  you  won't  respect 
one  wish  I  shall  not  respect  the  other." 

He  could  not  believe  she  meant  it,  but  she  certainly  looked 
and  spoke  as  if  she  did.  He  faltered  and  hesitated,  and  she 
pressed  her  advantage.  And  at  last  he  yielded. 

"All  right,"  he  said  desperately.  "All  right — or  all  wrong, 
whichever  it  turns  out  to  be.  I'll  take  the  trustee  job — try 
it  for  a  time  anyhow.  But,  I  tell  you,  Elizabeth,  I'm  afraid 
we're  both  makin'  a  big  mistake." 

She  was  not  in  the  least  afraid,  and  said  so. 


FAIR    HARBOR  245 


"You  have  made  me  very  happy,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she 
declared.  "I  can't  thank  you  enough." 

He  shook  his  head,  but  before  he  could  reply  there  came 
a  sharp  knock  on  the  outer  door,  the  back  door  of  the  house. 

"Who  on  earth  is  that?"  exclaimed  Sears.  Then  he 
shouted,  "Come  in." 

The  person  who  came  in  was  George  Kent. 

"Why,  George !"  said  Elizabeth.  Then  she  added.  "What 
is  it  ?  What  is  the  matter  ?" 

The  young  man  looked  as  if  something  was  the  matter. 
His  expression  was  not  at  all  pleasant. 

"Evening  George,"  said  the  captain.  "Glad  to  see  you. 
Sit  down." 

Kent  ignored  both  the  invitation  and  the  speaker. 

"Look  here,"  he  demanded,  addressing  Miss  Berry:  "do 
you  know  what  time  it  is  ?  It  is  ten  o'clock." 

His  tone  was  so  rude — so  boyishly  rude — that  Sears 
looked  up  quickly  and  Elizabeth  drew  back. 

"It's  nearly  ten  o'clock,"  repeated  Kent.  "And  you  are 
over  here." 

"George !"  exclaimed  Sears,  sharply. 

"You  are  over  here — with  him — again." 

It  was  Elizabeth  who  spoke  now.    She  said  but  one  word. 

"Well?"  she  asked. 

There  was  an  icy  chill  about  that  "Well?"  which  a  more 
cautious  person  that  George  Kent  might  have  noticed  and 
taken  as  a  warning.  But  the  young  man  was  far  from 
cautious  at  that  moment. 

"Well?"  he  repeated  hotly.  "I  don't  think  it's  well  at  all. 
I  come  see  you  and — I  find  you  over  here.  And  I  find  that 
every  one  else  knows  you  are  here.  And  they  think  it  queer, 
too ;  I  could  see  that  they  did.  ...  Of  course,  I  don't 
say " 

"I  think  you  have  said  enough.  I  came  here  to  talk  with 
Cap'n  Kendrick  on  a  business  matter.  I  told  mother  where 
I  was  going  when  I  left  the  house.  The  others  heard  me,  I 
suppose ;  I  certainly  did  not  try  to  conceal  it.  Why  should 
I?" 


246  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Why  should  you?  Why,  you  should  because — be 
cause Well,  if  you  don't  know  why  you  shouldn't  be 

here,  he  does." 

"He?    Cap'n  Kendrick?" 

"Yes.  I — I  told  him  why,  myself.  Only  this  noon  I  told 
him.  I  was  here  and  I  told  him  people  were  beginning  to 
talk  about  you  and  he  being  together  so  much  and — and  his 
taking  you  to  ride,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  I  told  him 
he  ought  to  be  more  careful  of  appearances.  I  said  of 
course  you  didn't  think,  but  he  ought  to.  I  explained 
that " 

"Stop!"  Her  face  was  crimson  and  she  was  breathing 
quickly.  "Do  you  mean  to  say  that — that  people  are  talking 
— are  saying  things  about — about.  .  .  .  What  people  ?" 

"Oh — oh,  different  ones.  Of  course  they  don't  say  any 
thing  much — ef — not  yet.  But  if  we  aren't  careful  they 
will.  You  see " 

"Wait.  Are  they — are  they  saying  that — that Oh,  it 

is  too  wicked  and  foolish  to  speak !  Are  they  saying  that 
Cap'n  Kendrick  and  I " 

Sears  spoke.  "Hush,  hush,  Elizabeth !"  he  begged.  "They 
aren't  say  in*  anything,  of  course.  George  is — is  just  a  little 
excited  over  nothin',  that's  all.  He  has  heard  Elvira  or  some 
other  cat  over  there  at  the  Harbor,  probably.  They're  jeal 
ous  because  you  have  had  this  money  left  you." 

"It  is  nothing  to  do  with  the  money,"  Kent  asserted. 
"Didn't  I  tell  you  this  noon  that  you — that  we  had  to  be 
careful  of  appearances?  Didn't  I  say " 

Again  Elizabeth  broke  in. 

"You  have  said  all  I  want  to  hear — in  this  room,  now," 
she  declared.  "There  are  a  good  many  things  for  us  both 
to  say — and  listen  to,  but  not  here.  .  .  .  Good  night,  Cap'n 
Kendrick.  I  am  sorry  I  kept  you  up  so  late,  and  I  hope 
all  this — I  hope  you  won't  let  this  wicked  nonsense  trouble 
you.  It  isn't  worth  worrying  about.  Good  night." 

"But,  Elizabeth,"  urged  Sears,  anxiously,  "don't  you 
think " 


FAIR    HARBOR  247 


"Good  night.  George,  you  had  better  come  with  me.  I 
have  some  things  to  say  to  you." 

She  went  out.  Kent  hesitated,  paused  for  a  moment,  and 
then  followed  her.  When  Judah  returned  with  the  tobacco 
and  a  fresh  cargo  of  rumors  concerning  Egbert  Phillips  he 
found  his  lodger  not  the  least  interested  in  either  smoke  or 
gossip. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SO  Judah  was  obliged  to  postpone  the  telling  of  his 
most  important  news  item.  But  the  following  morn 
ing  when,  looking  heavy-eyed  and  haggard,  as  if  he 
had  slept  but  little,  Captain  Kendrick  limped  into  the  kitchen 
for  breakfast,  Mr.  Cahoon  served  that  item  with  the  salt 
mackerel  and  fried  potatoes.  It  was  surprising,  too — at 
least  Sears  found  it  so.  Egbert  Phillips,  so  Judah  declared, 
had  given  up  his  rooms  at  the  Central  House  and  had  gone, 
household  goods  and  all,  to  board  and  lodge  at  Joel  Macom- 
ber's.  He  was  occupying,  so  Judah  said,  the  very  room 
that  Sears  himself  had  occupied  when  he  was  taken  to  his 
sister's  home  after  the  railway  accident. 

The  captain  could  scarcely  believe  it.  He  had  not  seen 
Sarah  Macomber  since  the  day  following  the  Foam  Flake's 
amazing  cut-up  on  the  Orham  road,  when  she  had  come,  in 
much  worriment  and  anxiety,  to  learn  how  badly  he  was 
hurt.  Her  call  had  been  brief,  and,  as  he  had  succeeded  in 
convincing  her  that  the  extra  twist  to  his  legs  would  have 
no  serious  effect,  she  had  not  called  since.  But  Sarah-Mary, 
the  eldest  girl,  had  brought  a  basket  containing  a  cranberry 
pie,  a  half-peck,  more  or  less,  of  molasses  cookies,  and  two 
tumblers  of  beach-plum  jelly,  and  Sarah-Mary  had  said 
nothing  to  her  Uncle  Sears  about  the  magnificent  Mr.  Phil 
lips  coming  to  live  with  them. 

"I  guess  not,  Judah,"  said  the  captain.  "Probably  vou've 
got  it  snarled  some  way.  He  may  have  gone  there  to  supper 
with  George  Kent  and  the  rest  of  the  yarn  sprouted  from 
that." 

But  Judah  shook  his  head.  "No  snarl  about  it,  Cao'n 
Sears,"  he  declared.  "Come  straight  this  did,  straight  as 

248 


FAIR    HARBOR  249 


a  spare  topmast.  Joe  Macomber  told  me  so  himself.  Proud 
of  it,  too,  Joe  was;  all  kind  of  swelled  up  with  it,  like  a 
pizened  shark.'/ 

"But  why  on  earth  should  he  pick  out  Sarah's?  Why 
didn't  he  go  to  Naomi  Newcomb's ;  she  keeps  a  regular 
boardin'-house  ?  Sarah  can't  take  any  more  boarders.  Her 
house  is  overloaded  as  it  is.  That  was  why  I  didn't  stay 
there.  No,  I  don't  believe  it,  Judah.  Joel  was  just  comin'  up 
to  blow,  that's  all.  He's  a  regular  puffin'-pig  for  blowinV 

But  Sarah  called  that  very  forenoon  and  confirmed  the 
news.  She  had  agreed  to  take  Mr.  Phillips  into  her  home. 
Not  only  that,  but  he  was  already  there. 

"I  know  you  must  think  it's  sort  of  funny,  Sears,"  she 
said,  looking  rather  embarrassed  and  avoiding  her  brother's 
eye.  "If  anybody  had  told  me  a  week  ago  that  I  should  ever 
take  another  boarder  I  should  have  felt  like  askin*  'em  if 
they  thought  I  was  crazy.  I  suppose  you  think  I  am,  don't 
you?" 

"Not  exactly,  Sarah— not  yet." 

"But  you  think  I  most  likely  will  be  before  I'm  through? 
Well,  maybe,  but  I'm  goin'  to  risk  it.  You  see,  I — well,  we 
need  the  money,  for  one  thing." 

Sears  stirred  in  his  chair. 

"I  could  have  let  you  have  a  little  money  every  once  in  a 
while,  Sarah,"  he  said.  "It's  a  shame  that  it  would  have  to 
be  so  little.  If  those  legs  ever  do  get  shipshape  and  I  get 
to  sea  again " 

She  stopped  him.  "I  haven't  got  so  yet  awhile  that  I 
have  to  take  anybody's  money  for  nothin',"  she  said  sharply. 
"There,  there,  Sears !  I  know  you'd  give  me  every  cent 
you  had  if  I'd  let  you.  I'll  tell  you  why  I  took  Mr.  Phillips. 
He  came  to  supper  with  George  the  other  night  and  stayed 
all  the  evenin'.  He's  one  of  the  most  interestin'  men  I  ever 
met  in  my  life.  Not  any  more  interestin'  than  you  are,  of 
course,"  she  added,  loyally,  "but  in — in  a  different  way." 

"Urn  .  .  .  yes.    I  shouldn't  wonder." 

"Yes,  he  is.  And  he  liked  my  supper,  and  said  so.  Ate 
some  of  everything  and  praised  it,  and  was  just  as — as 


250  FAIR    HARBOR 


common  and  everyday  and  sociable,  not  a  mite  proud  or — 
like  that." 

"Why  in  the  devil  should  he  be?" 

"Why — why,  I  don't  know  why  he  shouldn't.  Lots  of 
folks  who  know  as  much  as  he  does  and  have  been  every 
where  and  known  the  kind  of  people  he  knows — they  would 
be  stuck  up — yes,  and  are.  Look  at  Cap'n  Elkhanah  Win- 
gate  and  his  wife." 

"I  don't  want  to  look  at  'em.  How  do  you  know  how 
much  this  Phillips  knows?" 

"How  do  I  know?  Why,  Sears,  you  ought  to  hear  him 
talk.  I  never  heard  such  talk.  The  children  just — just 
hung  on  his  words,  as  they  say.  And  he  was  so  nice  to 
them.  And  Joel  and  George  Kent  they  think  he's  the  great 
est  man  they  ever  saw.  Oh,  all  hands  in  Bayport  like  him." 

"Humph!  When  he  was  here  before,  teachin'  singin' 
school,  he  wasn't  such  a  Grand  Panjandrum.  At  least,  I 
never  heard  that  he  was." 

"Sears,  you  don't  like  him,  do  you?  I'm  real  surprised. 
Yes,  and — and  sorry.  Why  don't  you  like  him?" 

Her  brother  laughed.  "I  didn't  say  I  didn't  like  him, 
Sarah,"  he  replied.  "Besides,  what  difference  would  one  like 
more  or  less  make?  I  don't  know  him  very  well." 

"But  he  likes  you.  Why,  he  said  he  didn't  know  when  he 
had  met  a  man  who  gave  him  such  an  impression  of — of 
strength  and  character  as  you  did.  He  said  that  right  at 
our  supper  table.  I  tell  you  I  was  proud  when  he  said  it 
about  my  brother." 

So  Sears  had  not  the  heart  to  utter  more  skepticism.  He 
encouraged  Sarah  to  tell  more  of  her  arrangements  with 
the  great  man.  He  was,  it  appeared,  to  have  not  only  the 
bedroom  which  Sears  had  occupied,  but  also  the  room  ad 
joining. 

"One  will  be  his  bedroom,"  explained  Mrs.  Macomber, 
"and  the  other  his  sittin'  room,  sort  of.  His  little  suite,  he 
calls  'em.  He  is  movin'  the  rest  of  his  things  in  to-day." 

Seers  looked  at  her.  "Two  rooms !"  he  exclaimed.  "He's 
to  have  two  rooms  in  your  house !  For  heaven  sakes,  Sarah, 


FAIR   HARBOR  251 


where  do  the  rest  of  you  live;  in  the  cellar?  Coin'  to  let 
the  children  sleep  in  the  cistern  ?" 

She  explained.  It  was  a  complicated  process,  but  she  had 
worked  it  out.  Lemuel  and  Edgar  had  always  had  a  room 
together,  but  now  Bemis  was  to  have  a  cot  there  also.  "And 
Joey,  of  course,  is  only  a  baby,  his  bed  is  in  our  room,  Joel's 
and  mine.  And  Sarah-Mary  and  Aldora,  they  are  same  as 
they  have  been." 

"Yes,  yes,  but  that  doesn't  explain  the  extra  room,  his 
sitting  room.  Where  does  that  come  from?" 

She  hesitated  a  moment.  "Well — well,  you  see,"  she  said, 
"there  wasn't  any  other  bedroom  except  the  one  George 
hires,  and  he  is  goin'  to  stay  for  a  while  longer  anyway.  At 
first  it  didn't  seem  as  if  I  could  let  Mr.  Phillips  have  the 
sittin'  room  he  wanted.  But  at  last  Joel  and  I  thought  it 
out.  We  don't  use  the  front  parlor  hardly  any,  and  there 
is  the  regular  sittin'  room  left  for  us  anyway,  so " 

"Sarah  Kendrick  Macomber,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me 
you've  let  this  fellow  have  your  front  parlor?" 

"Why — why,  yes.  We  don't  hardly  ever  use  it,  Sears. 
I  don't  believe  we've  used  that  parlor — really  opened  the 
blinds  and  used  it,  I  mean — since  Father  Macomber's  fu 
neral,  and  that  was — let  me  see — over  six  years  ago." 

Her  brother  slowly  shook  his  head.  "The  judge  was 
right,"  he  declared.  "He  certainly  was  right.  Smoothness 
isn't  any  name  for  it." 

"Sears,  what  are  you  talkin'  about?  I  can't  understand 
you.  I  thought  you  would  be  glad  to  think  such  a  splendid 
man  as  he  is  was  goin'  to  live  with  us.  To  say  nothin'  of 
my  makin'  all  this  extra  money.  Of  course,  if  you  don't 
want  me  to  do  it,  I  won't.  I  wouldn't  oppose  you,  Sears, 
for  anything  in  this  world.  But  I — I  must  say " 

He  laid  his  hand  on  hers.  "There,  Sarah,"  he  broke  in. 
"Don't  pay  too  much  attention  to  me.  I'm  crochetty  these 
days,  have  a  good  deal  on  my  mind.  If  you  think  takin' 
this  Phillips  man  aboard  is  a  good  thing  for  you,  I'm  glad. 
How  much  does  he  pay  you  a  week  ?" 

She  told  him.    It  was  more  than  fair  rate  for  those  days. 


252  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Humph !"  he  observed.  "Well,  Sarah,  good  luck  to  you. 
I  hope  you  get  it." 

"Get  it!  Why,  of  course  I'll  get  it,  Sears.  It's  all  ar 
ranged.  And  I  want  you  and  Mr.  Phillips  to  know  each 
other  real  well.  I'm  goin'  to  tell  him  he  must  call  again 
to  see  you." 

"Eh?  ...  Oh,  all  right,  Sarah.  You  can  tell  him,  if 
you  want  to." 

After  she  had  gone  he  thought  the  matter  over.  Surely 
Mr.  Egbert  Phillips  was  a  gentleman  of  ability  along  cer 
tain  lines.  His  sister  Sarah  was  a  sensible  woman,  she  was 
far,  far  from  being  a  susceptible  sentimentalist.  Yet  she  was 
already  under  the  Phillips  spell.  Either  Judge  Knowles 
was  right — very,  very  much  right — or  he  was  overwhelm 
ingly  wrong.  If  left  to  Bayport  opinion  as  a  jury  there 
was  no  question  concerning  the  verdict.  Egbert  would  be 
triumphantly  acquitted. 

Sears,  however,  did  not,  at  this  time,  spare  much  thought 
to  the  Phillips  riddle.  He  had  other,  and,  it  seemed  to  him, 
more  disturbing  matters  to  deal  with.  The  quarrel  between 
Elizabeth  Berry  and  young  Kent  was  one  of  those,  for  he 
felt  that,  in  a  way,  he  was  the  cause  of  it.  George  had,  of 
course,  behaved  like  a  foolish  boy  and  had  been  about  as 
tactless  as  even  a  jealous  youth  could  be,  but  there  was 
always  the  chance  that  some  one  else  had  sowed  the  seeds 
of  jealousy  in  his  mind.  He  determined  to  see  Kent,  ex 
plain,  have  a  frank  and  friendly  talk,  and,  if  possible,  set 
everything  right — everything  between  the  two  young  people, 
that  is.  But  when,  on  his  first  short  walk  along  the  road, 
he  happened  to  meet  Kent,  the  latter  paid  no  attention  to 
his  hail  and  strode  past  without  speaking.  Sears  shouted 
after  him,  but  the  shout  was  unheeded. 

Elizabeth  was  almost  as  contrary.  When  he  attempted  to 
lead  the  conversation  to  George,  she  would  not  follow. 
When  he  mentioned  the  young  man's  name  she  changed  the 
subject.  At  last  when,  his  sense  of  guilt  becoming  too  much 
for  him,  he  began  to  defend  Kent,  she  interrupted  the  de 
fense. 


FAIR    HARBOR  253 


"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  said,  "I  understand  why  you  take 
his  part.  And  it  is  like  you  to  do  it.  But  when  you  begin 
to  blame  yourself  or  me  then  I  shan't  listen." 

"Blame  you!  Why,  Elizabeth,  I  had  no  idea  of  blamin' 
you.  The  whole  thing  is  just  a — a  misunderstandin'  be 
tween  you  and  George,  and  I  want  to  straighten  it  out, 
that's  all.  If  anybody  is  to  blame  I  really  think  I  am.  I 
should  have  thought  more  about — about,  what  he  calls  ap 
pearances  ;  that  is,  perhaps  I  should." 

She  lost  patience.  "Oh,  do  stop !"'  she  cried.  "You  know 
you  are  talking  nonsense." 

"Well,  but,  Elizabeth,  I  feel— wicked.  I  wouldn't  for  the 
world  be  the  cause  of  a  break  between  you  two.  If  that 
should  happen  because  of  me  I  couldn't  rest  easy." 

This  conversation  took  place  in  the  smaller  sitting  room 
of  the  Fair  Harbor,  the  room  which  she  and  her  mother 
used  as  a  sort  of  office.  She  had  been  standing  by  the  win 
dow,  looking  out.  Now  she  turned  and  faced  him. 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  asked,  "just  what  do  you  mean  by 
a  'break'  between  George  Kent  and  me?  Are  you  under 
the  impression  that  he  and  I  were — were  engaged?" 

"Why — why,  weren't  you?" 

"No.    Why  should  you  think  we  were?" 

"Well — why,  there  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  general  idea 
that — that  you  were.  People — Bayport  folks  seemed  to  think 
— seemed  to  think " 

She  stamped  her  foot.  "They  don't  think,  most  of  them, 
they  only  talk,"  she  declared.  "I  certainly  never  said  we 
were.  And  he  didn't  either,  did  he?" 

Kent  had  said  that  he  and  Elizabeth  were  engaged — prac 
tically — whatever  that  might  mean.  But  the  captain  thought 
it  wisest  just  then  to  forget. 

"Why — no,  I  guess  not,"  he  answered. 

"Of  course  he  didn't  .  .  .  Cap'n  Kendrick.  I — oh,  you 
might  as  well  understand  this  clearly.  I  have  known  George 
for  a  long  time.  I  liked  him.  For  a  time  I  thought — 
well,  I  thought  perhaps  I  liked  him  enough  to — to  like  him 
a  lot  more.  But  I  was  mistaken.  He — he  kept  doing  things 


254  FAIR    HARBOR 


that  I  didn't  like.  Oh,  they  had  nothing-  to  do  with  me. 
They  were  things  that  didn't  seem — what  you  would  call 
square  and  aboveboard.  Little  things  that.  ...  It  was 
about  one  of  these  that  we  disagreed  just  before  the  'Down 
by  the  Sea'  theatricals.  But  he  explained  that  and — and — 
well,  he  can  be  so  nice  and  likable,  that  I  forgave  him.  But 
lately  there  have  been  others.  He  has  changed.  And  now 
all  this  foolishness,  and.  .  .  .  There,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  I 
didn't  mean  to  say  so  much.  But  I  want  you  to  understand, 
and  to  tell  every  one  else  who  talks  about  George  Kent  and 
me  being  engaged,  that  there  never  was  any  such  engage 
ment." 

It  would  be  rather  difficult  to  catalogue  all  of  Sears  Ken- 
drick's  feelings  as  he  listened  to  this  long  speech.  They 
were  mixed  feelings,  embarrassment,  sorrow,  relief — and  a 
most  unwarranted  and  unreasonable  joy.  But  he  repressed 
the  relief  and  joy  and  characteristically  returned  to  self- 
chastisement. 

"Yes— oh— I  see,"  he  faltered.  "I  guess  likely  I  didn't 
understand  exactly.  But  just  the  same  I  don't  know  but 
George  was  right  in  some  things  he  said.  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  I  had  been  careless  about — about  appearances.  I  don't 
know  but — but  my  seein'  you  so  much — and  our  goin'  to 
Orham  together  might  set  some  folks  talkin'.  Of  course  it 
doesn't  seem  hardly  possible  that  anybody  could  be  such 
fools,  considerin'  you — and  then  considerin'  me — but " 

She  would  not  hear  any  more.  "I  don't  propose  to  con 
sider  them"  she  declared  with  fierce  indignation.  "I  shall 
see  you  or  any  one  else  just  as  often  as  I  please.  Now  that 
you  are  to  take  care  of  my  money  for  me  I  have  no  doubt 
I  shall  see  you  a  great  deal  oftener  than  I  ever  did.  And  if 
those — those  talkative  persons  don't  like  it,  they  may  do  the 
next  best  thing.  .  .  .  No,  that  is  enough,  Cap'n  Kendrick. 
It  is  settled." 

And  it  did  appear  to  be.  If  anything,  she  saw  him  oftener 
than  before,  seemed  to  take  a  mischievous  delight  in  being 
seen  with  him,  in  running  to  the  Minot  place  on  errands 


FAIR    HARBOR  255 


connected  with  the  Harbor  business,  and  in  every  way  defy 
ing  the  gossips. 

And  gossip  accepted  the  challenge.  From  the  time  when 
it  became  known  that  Sears  Kendrick  was  to  be  the  trustee 
of  Elizabeth  Berry's  twenty-thousand  dollar  legacy  the  tide 
of  public  opinion,  already  on  the  turn,  set  more  and  more 
strongly  against  him.  And,  as  it  ebbed  for  Captain  Sears,  it 
rose  higher  and  higher  for  that  genteel  martyr,  Mr.  Egbert 
Phillips. 

Sears  could  not  help  noticing  the  change.  It  was  gradual, 
but  it  was  marked.  He  had  never  had  many  visitors,  but 
occasionally  some  of  the  retired  sea  dogs  among  the  town- 
folk  would  drop  in  to  swap  yarns,  or  a  younger  captain, 
home  from  a  voyage,  would  call  on  him  at  the  Minot  place. 
The  number  of  those  calls  became  smaller,  then  they  ceased. 
Doctor  Sheldon  was,  of  course,  as  jolly  and  friendly  as  ever, 
and  Bradley,  when  he  drove  over  from  Orham  on  a  legal 
errand,  made  it  a  point  to  come  and  see  him.  But,  aside 
from  those,  and  Sarah  Macomber,  and,  of  course,  Elizabeth 
Berry,  no  one  came. 

When  he  walked,  as  he  did  occasionally  now  that  his  legs 
were  stronger — they  had  quite  recovered  from  the  strain 
put  upon  them  by  the  Foam  Flake's  outbreak — up  and  down 
the  sidewalk  from  Judge  Knowles'  corner  to  the  end  of  the 
Fair  Harbor  fence,  the  people  whom  he  met  seldom  stopped 
to  chat  with  him.  Or,  if  they  did,  the  chat  was  always  brief 
and,  on  their  part,  uneasy.  They  acted,  so  it  seemed  to  him, 
guilty,  as  if  they  were  doing  something  they  should  not  do, 
something  they  were  not  at  all  anxious  to  have  people  see 
them  do.  And  when  he  drove  with  Judah  down  to  the  store 
the  group  there  no  longer  hailed  him  with  shouts  of  wel 
come.  They  spoke  to  him,  mentioned  the  weather  perhaps, 
grinned  in  embarrassed  fashion,  but  they  did  not  ask  him  to 
sit  down  and  join  them.  And  when  his  back  was  turned, 
when  he  left  the  store,  he  had  the  feeling  that  there  were 
whispered  comments — and  sneers. 

It  was  all  impalpable,  there  was  nothing  openly  hostile, 
no  one  said  anything  to  which  he  could  take  exception — he 


256  FAIR   HARBOR 


only  wished  they  would  ;  but  he  felt  the  hostility  nevertheless. 

And  among  the  feminine  element  it  was  even  more  evi 
dent.  When  he  went  to  church,  as  he  did  semioccasionally, 
as  he  walked  down  the  aisle  he  felt  that  the  rustle  of  Sunday 
black  silks  and  bonnet  strings  which  preceded  and  followed 
him  was  a  whisper  of  respectable  and  self-righteous  dis 
approval.  It  was  not  all  imagination,  he  caught  glimpses  of 
sidelong  looks  and  headshakes  which  meant  something,  and 
that  something  not  applause.  Once  the  Reverend  Mr.  Dishup 
took  for  his  text  Psalm  xxxix,  the  sixth  verse,  "He  heapeth 
up  riches  and  knoweth  not  who  shall  gather  them."  The 
sermon  dealt  with,  among  others,  the  individual  who  in  his 
lifetime  amassed  wealth,  not  knowing  that,  after  his  death, 
other  individuals  scheming  and  unscrupulous  would  strive 
to  divert  that  wealth  from  the  rightful  heirs  for  their  own 
benefit.  It  was  a  rather  dull  sermon  and  Sears,  his  attention 
wandering,  happened  to  turn  his  head  suddenly  and  look  at 
the  rest  of  the  congregation.  It  seemed  to  him  that  at  least 
a  quarter  of  the  heads  in  that  congregation  were  turned  in 
his  direction.  Now,  meeting  his  gaze,  they  swung  back,  to 
stare  with  noticeable  rigidity  at  the  minister. 

Over  at  the  Fair  Harbor  his  comings  and  goings  were  no 
longer  events  to  cause  pleasurable  interest  and  excitement. 
The  change  there  was  quite  as  evident.  Miss  Snowden  and 
Mrs.  Brackett,  leaders  of  their  clique,  always  greeted  him 
politely  enough,  but  they  did  not,  individually  or  collectively, 
ask  his  advice  or  offer  theirs.  There  were  smiles,  significant 
nods,  knowing  looks  exchanged,  especially,  he  thought  or 
imagined,  when  he  and  Miss  Berry  were  together.  Cor 
delia  Berry  was  almost  cold  toward  him.  Yet,  so  far  as 
he  knew,  he  had  done  nothing  to  offend  her. 

He  spoke  to  Elizabeth  about  her  mother's  attitude  toward 
him.  She  said  it  was  his  imagination. 

"It  may  be,"  she  said,  "that  you  don't  consult  her  quite 
enough  about  Fair  Harbor  matters,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  Mother 
is  sensitive,  she  is  matron  here,  you  know;  perhaps  we 
haven't  paid  as  much  deference  to  her  opinion  as  we  should. 


FAIR    HARBOR  257 


Poor  mother,  she  does  try  so  hard,  but  she  isn't  fitted  for 
business,  and  knows  it." 

That  Sunday,  after  his  return  from  church,  the  captain 
asked  Judah  a  point  blank  question. 

"Judah,"  he  said,  "I  want  you  to  tell  me  the  truth.  What 
is  the  matter  with  me,  nowadays?  The  whole  ship's  com 
pany  here  in  Bayport  are  givin'  me  the  cold  shoulder.  Don't 
tell  me  you  haven't  noticed  it;  a  blind  man  could  notice  it. 
What's  wrong  with  me?  What  have  I  done?  Or  what  do 
they  say  I've  done?" 

Judah  was  very  much  embarrassed.  His  trouble  showed 
in  his  face  above  the  whiskers.  He  had  been  bending  over 
the  cookstove  singing  at  the  top  of  his  lungs  the  interminable 
chantey  dealing  with  the  fortunes  of  one  Reuben  Ranzo. 

"  'Ranzo  was  no  sailor, 

Ranzo,  boys,  Ranzo ! 
Ranzo  was  a  tailor, 

Ranzo,  boys,  Ranzo! 

"  'Oh,  poor  Reuben  Ranzo ! 

Ranzo,  boys,  Ranzo! 
Hurrah  for  Reuben  Ranzo! 

Ranzo,  boys,  Ranzo  I 

"  'Ranzo  was  no  sailor, 

Ranzo,  boys,  Ranzo ! 
He  shipped  on  board  a  whaler, 

Ranzo,  boys,  Ranzo !'  " 

And  so  on,  forever  and  forever.  Judah  had  reached  the 
point  where: 

"  'They  set  him  holy-stonin', 

Ranzo,  boys,  Ranzo! 
And  cared  not  for  his  groanin', 

Ranzo,  boys,  Ranzo! 


258  FAIR    HARBOR 


"'Oh,  poor  Reuben  Ranzo! 

Ranso,  boys,  Ranzo ! 
Hurrah  for ' 

"Eh?    Did  you  say  something  Cap'n  Sears?" 

Sears  repeated  his  question,  and  then,  as  no  answer 
seemed  to  be  forthcoming,  repeated  it  once  more,  with  an 
order  to  "step  lively."  Judah  groaned  and  shook  his  head. 

"I've  been  sort  of  afraid  you  might  think  somethin'  was 
queer,  Cap'n  Sears,"  he  admitted.  "I  was  hopin'  you 
wouldn't,  though,  not  till  it  begun  to  blow  over.  All  them 
kind  of  things  do  blow  over,  give  'em  time.  One  voyage  I 
took — to  Shanghai,  seems  to  me  'twas,  either  that  or  Rooshy 
somewheres — there  was  a  ship's  carpenter  aboard  and  word 
got  spread  around  that  he  had  a  wooden  leg.  Now  he  didn't, 
you  know ;  matter  of  fact,  all  he  had  out  of  the  way  with  him 
was  a  kind  of — er — er — sheet-iron  stove  lid,  as  you  might 
call  it,  rivetted  onto  the  top  of  his  head.  He  was  in  the 
Mexican  war,  seemed  so,  and  one  of  them  cannon  balls  had 
caved  in  his  upper  deck,  you  understand,  and  them  doc 
tors  they " 

"Here,  here,  Judah!  I  didn't  ask  you  about  any  iron- 
headed  carpenters,  did  I?" 

"No ;  no,  you  never,  Cap'n  Sears.  But  what  I  started  to 
say  was  that " 

"All  right,  but  you  stick  to  what  I  want  you  to  say.  Tell 
me  what's  the  matter  with  me  in  Bayport  ?" 

Judah  groaned  again.  "It  'tain't  so  much  that  there's  any 
great  that's  wrong  along  of  you,  Cap'n,"  he  said,  "as  'tis 
that  there  ain't  nothin'  but  what's  so  everlastin'  right  with 
another  feller.  That's  the  way  I  size  it  up,  and  I've  been 
takin'  observations  for  quite  a  spell.  Bayport  folks  are 
spendin*  seven  days  in  the  week  lovin'  this  Egbert  Phillips. 
Consequentially  they  ain't  got  much  time  left  to  love  you  in. 
Fools?  Course  they  be,  and  I've  told  some  of  'em  so  till 
I've  got  a  sore  throat  hollerin'.  But,  by  the  creepin' " 

"Judah!     Has  Phillips  been  saying  things  about  me?" 

"Hey  ?    Him  ?    No,  no,  no !     He  don't  say  nothin'  about 


FAIR    HARBOR  259 


nobody  no  time,  nothin'  out  of  the  way,  that  is.  He's  always 
praisin'  of  you  up,  so  they  tell  me,  and  excusin'  you  and 
forgivin'  you." 

"Forgivin'  me?    What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"Hold  on!  don't  get  mad  at  me,  Cap'n  Sears.  I  mean 
when  they  say  what  a  pity  'tis  that  he,  the  man  whose 
wife  owned  all  this  Seymour  property  and  the  fifty  thousand 
dollars  and  such — when  they  go  to  poorin'  him  and  heavin' 
overboard  hints  about  how  other  folks  have  the  spendin' 
of  that  money  and  all — he  just  smiles,  sad  but  sort  of  sweet, 
and  says  it's  all  right,  his  dear  Lobelia  done  what  seemed  to 
her  proper,  and  if  he  has  to  suffer  a  little  grain,  why,  never 
mind.  .  .  .  That's  the  way  he  talks." 

"But  where  do  I  come  in  on  that?" 

"Well — well,  you  don't  really,  Cap'n  Sears.  Course  you 
don't.  But  you — you  have  got  the  handlin'  of  that  money, 
you  know.  And  you  are  gettin'  wages  for  skipperin'  the  Fair 
Harbor.  I've  heard  it  said — not  by  him,  oh,  creepin',  no ! — 
but  by  others,  that  he  ought  to  have  that  skipper's  job,  if 
anybody  had.  Lots  of  folks  seem  to  cal'late  he'd  ought  to 
own  the  Harbor.  But  instead  of  that  he  don't  own  nothin', 
they  say,  and  scratches  along  in  two  rooms,  down  to  Joe 
Macomber's,  and,  underneath  all  his  sufferin',  he's  just  as 
sweet  and  uncomplainin'  and  long-endurin'  and — and  high- 
toned  and  sociable  and — and " 

"Yes,  yes.  I  see.  Do  they  say  anything  more?  What 
about  my  bein'  Elizabeth  Berry's  trustee  ?" 

Mr.  Cahoon  paused  before  replying.  "Well,  they  do  seem 
to  hold  that  against  you  some,  I'm  afraid,"  he  admitted  re 
luctantly.  "I  don't  know  why  they  do.  And  they  don't  say 
much  in  front  of  me  no  more,  'cause,  they  realize,  I  cal'late, 
that  I'm  about  ready  to  knock  a  few  of  'em  into  the  scuppers. 
But  it — it  just  don't  help  you  none,  Cap'n,  takin'  care  of 
that  money  of  Elizabeth's  don't.  And  it  does  help  that  Eg 
man.  .  .  .  Why?  Don't  ask  me.  I — I'm  sick  and  dis 
gusted.  7  shan't  go  to  no  church  vestry  to  hear  him  lecture 
on  Eyetalian  paintin'  or — or  glazin',  or  whatever  'tis.  And 
have  you  noticed  how  they  bow  down  and  worship  him 


260  FAIR    HARBOR 


over  to  the  Fair  Harbor?  Have  you  noticed  Cordelia 
Berry?  She's  makin'  a  dum  fool  of  herself,  ain't  she?  Not 
that  that's  a  very  hard  job." 

Judah's  explanations  did  not  explain  much,  but  they  did 
help  to  increase  Sears'  vague  suspicions.  He  had  noticed 
— no  one  could  help  noticing — the  ever-growing  popularity 
of  Mr.  Phillips.  It  was  quite  as  evident  as  the  decline  of 
his  own.  What  he  suspected  was  that  the  two  were  con 
nected  and  that,  somehow  or  other,  the  smooth  gentleman 
who  boarded  and  lodged  with  the  Macombers  was  respon 
sible,  knowingly,  calculatingly  responsible  for  the  change. 

Yet  it  seemed  so  absurd,  that  suspicion.  He  and  Phillips 
met  frequently,  sometimes  at  church,  or  oftenest  at  the  Har 
bor — Egbert's  visits  there  were  daily  now,  and  he  dined  or 
supped  with  the  Berrys  and  the  "inmates"  at  least  twice  a 
week.  And  always  the  Phillips  manner  was  kind  and  gra 
cious  and  urbane.  Always  he  inquired  solicitously  concern 
ing  the  captain's  health.  There  was  never  a  hint  of  hostility, 
never  a  trace  of  resentment  or  envy.  And  always,  tpo,  Sears 
emerged  from  one  of  those  encounters  with  a  feeling  that 
he  had  had  a  little  the  worst  of  it,  that  his  seafaring  manners 
and  blunt  habit  of  speech  made  him  appear  at  a  marked 
disadvantage  in  comparison  with  this  easy,  suave,  gracefully 
elegant  personage.  And  so  many  of  those  meetings  took 
place  in  the  presence  of  Elizabeth  Berry. 

Elizabeth  liked  Egbert,  there  was  no  doubt  of  that.  Once 
when  she  and  the  captain  were  together  in  the  Fair  Harbor 
office  Phillips  entered.  Sears  and  Elizabeth  were  bending 
over  the  ledger  and  Egbert  opened  the  door.  Sears  and  the 
young  lady  were  not  in  the  least  embarrassed — of  course 
there  was  not  the  slightest  reason  why  they  should  be — but, 
oddly  enough,  Phillips  seemed  to  be.  He  stepped  back, 
coughed,  fidgeted  with  the  latch,  and  then  began  to  apologize. 

"I — I  really  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "I  am  sorry.  .  .  . 
I  didn't  know — I  didn't  realize — I'm  so  sorry." 

Elizabeth  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "But  there  is  nothing 
for  you  to  be  sorry  about,"  she  declared.  "What  is  it?  I 
don't  understand." 


FAIR    HARBOR  261 


Egbert  still  retained  his  hold  upon  the  latch  with  one  hand. 
His  hat,  gloves  and  cane  were  in  the  other.  It  is  perhaps 
the  best  indication  of  his  standing  in  the  community,  the 
fact  that,  having  lived  in  Bayport  for  some  weeks  and  being 
by  his  own  confession  a  poor  man,  he  could  still  go  gloved 
and  caned  on  week  days  as  well  as  Sundays  and  not  be 
subject  to  ridicule  even  by  the  Saturday  night  gang  in  Eli- 
phalet  Bassett's  store. 

He  fidgeted  with  the  latch  and  turned  as  if  to  go. 

"I  should  have  knocked,  of  course,"  he  protested.  "It  was 
most  careless  of  me.  I  do  hope  you  understand.  I  will  come 
—ah— later." 

"But  I  don't  understand,"  repeated  the  puzzled  Elizabeth. 
"It  was  perfectly  all  right,  your  coming  in.  There  is  no 
reason  why  you  should  knock.  The  cap'n  and  I  were  going 
over  the  bills,  that's  all." 

Mr.  Phillips  looked — well,  he  looked  queer. 

"Oh!"  he  said.  "Yes — yes,  of  course.  But  one  doesn't 
always  care  to  be  interrupted  in — even  in  business  matters 
— ah — sometimes." 

Elizabeth  laughed.  "I'm  sure  I  don't  mind,"  she  said. 
"Those  business  matters  weren't  so  frightfully  important." 

"I'm  so  glad.  You  ease  my  conscience,  Elizabeth.  Thank 
you.  .  .  .  But  I  am  afraid  the  captain  minds  more  than  you 
do.  He  looks  as  if  he  didn't  like  interruptions.  Now  do 
you,  Captain  Kendrick?" 

Sears  was  ruffled.  The  man  always  did  rub  him  the 
wrong  way,  and  now,  for  the  first  time,  he  heard  him  ad 
dress  Miss  Berry  by  her  Christian  name.  There  was  no 
real  reason  why  he  should  not,  almost  every  one  in  Bayport 
did,  but  Sears  did  not  like  it  nevertheless. 

"You  don't  fancy  interruptions,  Captain,"  repeated  the 
smiling  Egbert.  "Now  do  you?  Ha,  ha!  Confess." 

For  the  moment  Sears  forgot  to  be  diplomatic. 

"That  depends,  I  guess,"  he  answered  shortly. 

"Depends?  You  see,  I  told  you,  Elizabeth.  Depends 
upon  what?  We  must  make  him  tell  us  the  whole  truth, 
mustn't  we,  Elizabeth  ?  What  does  it  depend  upon,  Captain 


262  FAIR   HARBOR 


Kendrick ;  the — ah — situation — the  nature  of  the  business — 
or  the  companion  ?    Now  which  ?    Ha,  ha !" 

Sears  answered  without  taking  time  to  consider. 

"Upon  who  interrupts,  maybe,"  he  snapped.  Then  he 
would  have  given  something  to  have  recalled  the  words,  for 
Elizabeth  turned  and  looked  at  him.  She  flushed. 

Egbert's  serenity,  however,  was  quite  undented. 

"Oh,  dear  me!"  he  exclaimed,  in  mock  alarm.  "After 
that  I  shall  have  to  go.  And  I  shall  take  great  pains  to  close 
the  door  behind  me.  Ha,  ha !  Au  revoir,  Elizabeth.  Good- 
by,  Captain." 

He  went  out,  keeping  his  promise  concerning  the  closing 
of  the  door.  Elizabeth  continued  to  look  at  her  companion. 

"Now  why  in  the  world,"  she  asked,  "did  you  speak  to  him 
like  that?" 

Sears  frowned.  "Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  answered.  "He 
— he  riles  me  sometimes." 

"Yes.  .  .  .  Yes,  I  should  judge  so.  I  have  noticed  it 
before.  You  don't  like  him  for  some  reason  or  other.  What 
is  the  reason?" 

He  hesitated.  Aside  from  Judge  Knowles'  distrust  and 
dislike — which  he  could  not  mention  to  her — there  was  no 
very  valid  reason,  nothing  but  what  she  would  have  called 
prejudice.  So  he  hesitated  and  reddened. 

She  went  on.  "I  like  him,"  she  declared.  "He  is  a  gen 
tleman.  He  is  always  polite  and  considerate — as  he  was 
just  now  about  breaking  in  on  our  business  talk.  What  did 
you  dislike  about  that?" 

"Well,  I— well— oh,  nothin',  perhaps." 

"I  think  nothing  certainly.  He  is  an  old  friend  of  mother's 
and  of  the  people  here  in  the  Harbor.  They  all  like  him  very 
much.  I  am  sorry  that  you  don't  and  that  you  spoke  to  him 
as  you  did.  I  didn't  think  you  took  unreasonable  dislikes. 
It  doesn't  seem  like  you,  Cap'n  Kendrick." 

So  once  more  Sears  felt  himself  to  have  been  put  in  a  bad 
position  and  to  have  lost  ground  while  Phillips  gained  it. 
And,  brooding  over  the  affair,  he  decided  that  he  must  be 
more  careful.  If  he  were  not  so  much  in  Elizabeth's  com- 


FAIR    HARBOR  263 


pany  there  would  be  no  opportunity  for  insinuations — by 
Egbert  Phillips,  or  any  one  else.  So  he  put  a  strong  check 
upon  his  inclination  to  see  the  young  woman,  and,  over- 
conscientious  as  he  was  so  likely  to  be,  began  almost  to  avoid 
her.  Except  when  business  of  one  kind  or  another  made  it 
necessary  he  did  not  visit  the  Harbor.  It  cost  him  many 
pangs  and  made  him  miserable,  but  he  stuck  to  his  reso 
lution.  She  should  not  be  talked  about  in  connection  with 
him  if  he  could  help  it. 

He  had  had  several  talks  with  Bradley  and  with  her  about 
her  legacy  from  Judge  Knowles.  The  twenty-thousand  was, 
so  he  discovered,  already  well  invested  in  good  securi 
ties  and  it  was  Bradley's  opinion,  as  well  as  his  own, 
that  it  should  not  be  disturbed.  The  bonds  were  deposited 
in  the  vaults  of  the  Harniss  bank,  and  were  perfectly  safe. 
On  dividend  dates  he  and  Miss  Berry  could  cut  and  check 
up  the  coupons  together.  So  far  his  duties  as  trustee  were 
not  burdensome.  Bradley  had  invested  Cordelia's  five  thou 
sand  for  her,  so  the  Berry  family's  finances  were  stable.  In 
Bayport  they  were  now  regarded  as  "well  off."  Cordelia 
was  invited  to  supper  at  Captain  Elkhanah  Wingate's,  a 
sure  sign  that  the  hall-mark  of  wealth  and  aristocracy  had 
been  stamped  upon  her.  At  that  supper,  to  which  Eliza 
beth  also  was  invited  but  did  not  attend,  Mr.  Egbert  Phillips 
shone  resplendent.  Egbert  was  not  wealthy,  a  fact  which 
he  took  pains  to  let  every  one  know,  but  when  he  talked,  as 
he  did  most  of  the  evening,  Mrs.  Wingate  and  her  feminine 
guests  sat  in  an  adoring  trance  and,  after  these  guests  had 
gone,  the  hostess  stood  by  the  parlor  window  gazing  wist 
fully  after  them. 

Her  husband  was  unlocking  the  door  of  a  certain  closet 
upon  the  shelf  of  which  was  kept  a  certain  bottle  and  ac 
companying  glasses.  The  closet  had  not  been  opened  before 
that  evening,  as  the  Reverend  and  Mrs.  Dishup  had  been 
among  the  dinner  guests. 

"Elkhanah,"  observed  Mrs.  Wingate,  dreamily,  "I  do  think 
Mr.  Phillips  is  the  most  elegant  man  I  ever  saw  in  my  life. 
His  language — and  his  manners — they  are  perfect." 


264  FAIR    HARBOR 


Captain  Elkhanah  nodded.    "He's  pretty  slick,"  he  agreed. 

If  he  expected  by  thus  agreeing  to  please  his  wife,  he  must 
have  been  disappointed. 

"Oh,  don't  say  'slick'!"  she  snapped.  "I  do  wish  you 
wouldn't  use  such  countrified  words." 

"Eh?"  indignantly.  "Countrified!  Well,  I  am  country, 
ain't  I?  So  are  you,  so  far  as  that  goes.  So  was  he  once 
— when  he  was  teachin'  a  one-horse  singin'  school  in  this 
very  town." 

"Well,  perhaps.  But  he  has  got  over  it.  And  it  would 
pay  you  to  take  lessons  from  him,  and  learn  not  to  say 
'slick'  and  'ain't'." 

Her  husband  grunted.  "Pay!"  he  repeated.  "I'll  wait 
till  he  pays  me  the  twenty  dollars  he  borrowed  of  me  two 
weeks  ago.  He  wasn't  too  citified  to  do  that." 

Mrs.  Wingate  stalked  to  the  stairs.  "I'm  ashamed  of 
you,"  she  declared.  "You  know  what  a  struggle  he  is 
having,  and  how  splendid  and  uncomplaining  he  is.  And 
you  a  rich  man!  Any  one  would  think  you  never  saw 
twenty  dollars  before." 

Captain  Elkhanah  poured  himself  a  judicious  dose  from 
the  bottle. 

"Maybe  I  never  will  see  that  twenty  again,"  he  observed 
with  a  chuckle. 

"Oh,  you — you  disgust  me!" 

"Oh,  go " 

"What?    What  are  you  trying  to  say  to  me?" 

"Go  to  bed,"  said  the  captain,  and  took  his  dose. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IF  Elizabeth  noticed  that  Sears  was  not  as  frequent  a  visi 
tor  at  the  Fair  Harbor  as  he  had  formerly  been  she  said 
nothing  about  it.  She  herself  had  ceased  to  run  in  at  the 
Minot  place  to  ask  this  question  or  that.  Since  the  occasion 
when  Mr.  Phillips  interrupted  the  business  talk  in  the  office 
and  his  apologies  had  brought  about  the  slight  disagree 
ment — if  it  may  be  called  that — between  the  captain  and 
Miss  Berry,  the  latter  had,  so  Sears  imagined,  been  a  trifle 
less  cordial  to  him  than  before.  She  was  not  coldly  for 
mal  or  curt  and  disagreeable — her  mother  was  all  of  these 
things  to  the  captain  now,  and  quite  without  reason  so  far 
as  he  could  see — Elizabeth  was  not  like  that,  but  she  was 
less  talkative,  less  cheerful,  and  certainly  less  confidentially 
communicative.  At  times  he  caught  her  looking  at  him 
as  if  doubtful  or  troubled.  When  he  asked  her  what  was 
the  matter  she  said  "Nothing,"  and  began  to  speak  of  the 
bills  they  had  been  considering. 

On  one  occasion  she  asked  him  a  point  blank  question, 
one  quite  irrelevant  to  the  subject  at  hand. 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  asked,  "how  do  you  think  Judge 
Knowles  came  to  appoint  you  to  be  manager  here  at  the 
Harbor?" 

He  was  taken  by  surprise,  of  course.  "Why,"  he  stam 
mered,  "I — why,  I  don't  know.  That  is,  all  I  know  about 
it  is  what  he  told  me.  He  said  he  felt  he  ought  to  have 
some  one,  and  I  was  near  at  home,  and — and  so  he  thought 
of  me,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  I  know.  You  told  me  that.  .  .  .  But— but  how 
did  he  know  you  wanted  the  position?" 

"Wanted  it?    Good  heavens  and  earth,  I  didn't  want  it! 

265 


266  FAIR    HARBOR 


I  fought  as  hard  as  I  could  not  to  take  it.  Why,  I  told 
you — you  remember,  that  day  when  I  first  came  over  here; 
that  time  when  Elvira  and  the  rest  wanted  to  buy  the 
cast-iron  menagerie;  I  told  you  then " 

"Yes,"  she  interrupted  again.  "Yes,  I  know  you  did. 
But.  .  .  .  And  the  judge  had  never  heard  from  you — 
had  never  .  .  ." 

"Heard  from  me !  Do  you  mean  had  I  sent  in  an  appli 
cation  for  the  job?" 

"Oh,  no,  no !  Not  that.  But  you  and  he  had  never  been 
— er — close  friends  in  the  old  days,  when  you  were  here 
before?" 

He  could  not  guess  what  she  was  driving  at.  "Look 
here,  Elizabeth,"  he  said,  "I've  told  you  that  I  scarcely 
knew  Judge  Knowles  before  he  sent  for  me  and  offered 
me  this  place.  No  man  alive  was  ever  more  surprised  than 
I  was  then.  Why,  I  gathered  that  the  judge  had  talked 
about  me  to  you  before  he  sent  for  me.  Not  as  manager 
here,  of  course,  but  as — well,  as  a  man.  He  told  you  that 
I  was  goin'  to  call,  you  said  so,  and  I  know  you  and  he  had 
talked  and  laughed  together  about  my  fight  with  the  hens 
in  Judah's  garden." 

The  trouble,  whatever  its  cause,  seemed  to  vanish.  She 
smiled.  "Yes,  yes,"  she  said.  "Of  course  we  had.  He 
did  like  you,  Judge  Knowles  did,  and  that  was  all — of 
course  it  was." 

"All  what?" 

f<Oh,  nothing,  nothing.  How  is  Judah?  I  haven't  seen 
him  for  two  days." 

She  would  not  mention  Judge  Knowles  again,  but  for 
the  remainder  of  their  session  with  the  accounts  she  was 
more  like  her  old  self  than  she  had  been  for  at  least  a 
week,  or  so  it  seemed  to  him. 

This  was  but  one  of  those  queer  and  disconcerting  flare- 
ups  of  hers.  One  day,  a  week  or  so  after  she  had  ques 
tioned  him  concerning  his  appointment,  he  happened  to  be 
in  the  Harbor  kitchen,  and  alone — of  itself  a  surprising 
thing.  Elvira  Snowden  and  her  group  were  holding  some 


FAIR   HARBOR  267 


sort  of  committee  meeting  in  the  sitting  room.  Elvira  was 
continually  forming  committees  or  circles  for  this  purpose 
or  that,  purposes  which  fizzled  out  at  about  the  third  meeting 
of  each  group.  Esther  Tidditt  was  supposed  to  be  in 
charge  of  the  kitchen  on  this  particular  morning,  but  she 
had  gone  into  the  committee  meeting  in  order  to  torment 
Elvira  and  Mrs.  Brackett,  a  favorite  amusement  with  her. 

So  Sears,  wandering  into  the  kitchen,  happened  to  notice 
that  the  door  of  the  store  closet  had  been  left  open,  and  he 
was  standing  in  front  of  it  idly  looking  in.  He  was  brought 
out  of  his  day  dream,  which  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
closet  or  its  contents,  by  Elizabeth's  voice.  She  had  entered 
from  the  dining  room  and  he  had  not  heard  her. 

"Well,"  she  asked,  "I  trust  you  find  everything  present 
or  accounted  for?" 

Her  tone  was  so  crisply  sarcastic  that  he  turned  in  as 
tonishment. 

"Why— what?"  he  faltered. 

"I  said  I  trusted  that  you  found  everything  in  that  closet 
as  it  should  be.  Have  you  measured  the  flour  ?  My  mother 
is  matron  here,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  and  she  will  be  glad  to 
have  you  take  any  precautions  of  that  kind,  I  am  sure.  So 
shall  I.  But  don't  you  think  it  might  as  well  be  done  while 
she  or  I  are  here?" 

He  was  bewildered. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Elizabeth,"  he  said. 

"Don't  you?" 

"No,  I  don't.  I  came  in  just  now  by  the  back  door,  and 
there  was  no  one  in  the  kitchen,  so — so  I  waited  for  a 
minute." 

"Why  did  you  come  by  the  back  door?  You  didn't  use 
to.  Mother  and  I  are  usually  in  the  office,  or,  at  least,  we 
are  always  glad  to  come  there  when  you  call." 

He  was  still  bewildered,  but  irritated,  too. 

"Why  did  I  come  by  the  back  door?"  he  repeated.  "Why, 
I've  come  that  way  a  dozen  times  in  the  last  fortnight.  Don't 
you  want  me  to  come  that  way?" 


268  FAIR    HARBOR 


Now  she  looked  a  trifle  confused,  but  the  flush  was  still 
on  her  cheeks  and  the  sparkle  in  her  eye. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  care  how  often  you  come  than  way," 
she  said.  "But — well,  mother  is  matron  here,  Cap'n  Ken- 
drick.  She  may  not  be — perhaps  she  isn't — the  most  busi 
nesslike  and  orderly  person  in  the  world,  but  she  is  my 
mother.  If  you  have  any  complaints  to  make,  if  you  want 
to  find  out  how  things  are  kept,  or  managed,  or " 

"Here !"  he  broke  in.  "Wait !  What  do  you  mean  ?  Do 
you  suppose  I  sneaked  into  this  kitchen  by  myself  to  peek 
into  that  closet,  and — and  spy  on  your  mother's  managin'? 
.  .  .  You  don't  believe  anything  of  that  kind.  You  can't." 

She  was  more  embarrassed  now.  "Why — why,  no,  I 
don't,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  admitted.  "Of  course  I  know 
you  wouldn't  sneak  anywhere.  But — but  I  have  been  given 
to  understand  that  you  and — well,  Mr.  Bradley — have  not 
been — are  not  quite  satisfied  with  the  management — with 
mother's  management.  And " 

"Wait!  Heave  to!"  Sears  was  excited  now,  and,  as 
usual  when  excited,  drifted  into  nautical  phraseology.  "What 
do  you  mean  by  sayin'  I  am  not  satisfied?  Who  told  you 
that?" 

"Why — well,  you  are  not,  are  you?  You  questioned  her 
about  the  coal  a  week  ago,  about  how  much  she  used  in  a 
week.  And  then  you  asked  her  about  keeping  the  fires 
overnight,  if  she  saw  how  many  were  kept,  and  if  there 
was  much  waste.  And  two  or  three  times  you  have  been 
seen  standing  by  the  bins — figuring." 

"Good  Lord !"  His  exclamation  this  time  was  one  of  sheer 
amazement.  "Good  Lord!"  he  said  again.  "Why,  I  have 
been  tryin',  now  winter  is  comin'  on,  to  figure  out  how  to 
save  coal  cost  for  this  craft — for  the  Fair  Harbor.  You 
know  I  have.  I  asked  your  mother  about  the  fires  because 
I  know  how  much  waste  there  is  likely  to  be  when  a  fire 
is  kept  carelessly.  And  as  for  Bradley  and  I  not  bein'  sat 
isfied  with  your  mother  that  is  the  wildest  idea  of  all.  I 
never  talked  with  Bradley  about  the  management  here. 
It  isn't  his  business,  for  one  reason." 


FAIR    HARBOR  269 


She  was  silent.  Her  expression  had  changed.  Then  she 
said,  impulsively,  "I'm  sorry.  Please  don't  mind  what  I 
said,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  I — I  am  rather  nervous  and — and 
troubled  just  now.  Of  course,  you  are  not  obliged  to  come 
over  here  as — as  often  as  you  used.  .  .  .  But  things  I 

have  heard Oh,  I  shouldn't  pay  attention  to  them,  I 

suppose.  I — I  am  very  sorry." 

But  he  was  not  quite  in  the  mood  to  forgive.  And  one 
sentence  in  particular  occupied  his  attention. 

"Things  you  have  heard,"  he  repeated.  "Yes.  ...  I 
should  judge  you  must  have  heard  a  good  deal.  But  who 
did  you  hear  it  from  ?  .  .  .  Look  here,  Elizabeth ;  how  did 
you  know  I  was  here  in  the  kitchen  now?  Did  you  just 
happen  to  come  out  and  find  me  by  accident?" 

She  reddened.     "Why — why "  she  stammered. 

"Or  did  some  one  tell  you  I  was  out  here — spyin'  on  the 
pickles?" 

His  tone  was  a  most  unusual  one  from  him  to  her.  She 
resented  it. 

"No  one  told  me  you  were  'spying',"  she  replied,  coldly. 
"I  have  never  thought  of  you  as — a  spy,  Cap'n  Kendrick. 
I  have  always  considered  you  a  friend,  a  disinterested  friend 
of  mother's  and  mine." 

"Well?  .  .  .     What  does  that  'disinterested'  mean?" 

"Why,  nothing  in  particular." 

"It  must  mean  somethin'  or  you  wouldn't  have  said  it. 
Does  it  mean  that  you  are  beginnin'  to  doubt  the  disinter 
ested  part?  ...  I'd  like  to  have  you  tell  me,  if  you  don't 
mind,  how  you  knew  I  was  alone  here  in  the  kitchen?  Who 
took  the  pains  to  tell  you  that?" 

Her  answer  now  was  prompt  enough. 

"No  one  took  particular  pains,  I  should  imagine,"  she 
said,  crisply.  "Mr.  Phillips  told  me,  as  it  happened.  Or 
rather,  he  told  mother  and  mother  told  me.  He  is  to  speak 
to  the — to  Elvira's  'travel-study'  committee  in  the  sitting 
room,  and,  as  he  often  does,  he  walked  around  by  the  gar 
den  path.  When  he  passed  the  window  he  saw  you  standing 
by  the  closet,  that  was  all." 


270  FAIR    HARBOR 


Sears  did  not  speak.    He  turned  to  the  door. 

She  called  to  him.  "Wait — wait,  please,"  she  cried.  "Mr. 
Phillips  did  not  say  anything,  so  far  as  I  know,  except  to 
mention  that  you  were  here." 

The  captain  turned  back  again.  "Somebody  said  some- 
thin',"  he  declared.  "Somebody  said  enough  to  send  you 
out  here  and  make  you  speak  to  me  like — like  that.  And 
somebody  has  been  startin'  you  to  think  about  how  I  got 
the  appointment  as  manager.  Somebody  has  been  whisperin' 
that  I  am  not  satisfied  with  your  mother's  way  of  doin' 
things  and  am  schemin*  against  her.  Somebody  has  been 
droppin'  a  hint  here  and  a  hint  there  until  even  you  have 
begun  to  believe  'em.  .  .  .  Well,  I  can't  stop  your  belief, 
I  suppose,  but  maybe  some  day  I  shall  stop  Commodore 
Egbert,  and  when  I  do  he'll  stop  hard." 

"You  have  no  right  to  say  I  believe  anything  against  you. 
I  have  always  refused  to  believe  that.  Do  you  suppose  if 
I  hadn't  believed  in  and  trusted  you  absolutely  I  should  have 
.  .  .  But  there !  You  know  I  did — and  do.  It  is  only  when 
— when " 

"When  Egbert  hints." 

"Oh!  .  .  .     How  you  do  hate  Mr.  Phillips,  don't  you?" 

"Hate  him?  .  .  .  Why,  I — I  don't  know  as  you'd  call 
it  hate." 

"I  know.  It  is  plain  to  see.  You  have  hated  him  ever 
since  he  came.  But  why?  He  has  never — you  won't  be 
lieve  this,  but  it  is  true — he  has  never,  to  me  at  least,  said 
one  word  except  in  your  praise.  He  likes  and  admires  you. 
He  has  told  me  so." 

"Does  he  tell  your  mother  the  same  thing?" 

She  looked  at  him.  "Why  do  you  couple  my  mother's 
name  with  his  ?"  she  demanded  quickly.  "Why  should  he 
tell  her  anything  that  he  doesn't  tell  me?" 

It  was  a  question  which  Sears  could  not  answer.  For 
some  time  he  had  noticed  and  guessed  and  feared,  but  he 
could  not  tell  her.  So  he  was  silent,  and  to  remain  silent 
was  perhaps  the  worst  thing  he  could  have  done. 


FAIR    HARBOR  271 


"What  do  you  know  against  Mr.  Phillips?"  she  asked. 
"Tell  me.  Do  you  know  anything  to  his  discredit?" 

Again  he  did  not  answer.     She  turned  away. 

"I  thought  not,"  she  said.  "Oh,  envy  is  such  a  mean 
trait.  Well,  I  suppose  I  shouldn't  expect  to  have  many 
friends — lasting  friends." 

"Here!  hold  on,  Elizabeth.     Don't  say  that." 

"What  else  can  I  say?  I  am  sorry  I  spoke  to  you  as  I 
did,  but — I  think  you  have  more  than  paid  the  debt.  .  .  . 
Yes,  mother,  I  am  coming." 

She  went  out  of  the  room  and  Sears  limped  moodily  home, 
reflecting,  as  most  of  mankind  has  reflected  at  one  time  or 
another,  upon  the  unaccountableness  of  the  feminine  char 
acter.  So  far  as  he  could  see  he  had  said  much  less  than 
he  would  have  been  justified  in  saying.  She  had  goaded 
him  into  saying  even  that.  He  pondered  and  puzzled  over 
it  the  greater  part  of  the  night  and  then  reached  the  con 
clusion  which  the  male  usually  reaches  under  such  cir 
cumstances,  namely,  that  he  had  better  ask  her  pardon. 

So  when  they  next  met  he  did  that  very  thing  and  she 
accepted  the  apology.  And  at  that  meeting,  and  others  im 
mediately  following  it,  no  word  was  said  by  either  concern 
ing  "spying"  or  Mr.  Egbert  Phillips.  Yet  the  wall  between 
them  was  left  a  little  higher  than  it  had  been  before,  their 
friendship  was  not  quite  the  same,  and  an  experienced 
person,  not  much  of  a  prophet  at  that,  could  have  foretold 
that  the  time  was  coming  when  that  friendship  was  to  end. 

It  was  little  Esther  Tidditt  who  laid  the  coping  of  the 
dividing  wall.  Elvira  Snowden  built  some  of  the  upper 
tiers,  but  Esther  finished  the  job.  Almost  unbelievable  as 
it  may  seem,  she  did  not  like  Mr.  Phillips.  Of  course  with 
her  tendency  to  take  the  off  side  in  all  arguments  and  to  be 
almost  invariably  "agin  the  government,"  the  fact  that  the 
rest  of  feminine  Bayport  adored  the  glittering  Egbert  might 
have  been  of  itself  sufficient  to  set  up  her  opposition.  But 
he  had,  or  she  considered  that  he  had,  snubbed  her  on  several 
occasions  and  she  was  a  dangerous  person  to  snub.  Judah 
expressed  it  characteristically  when  he  declared  that  any- 


272  FAIR    HARBOR 


body  who  "set  out"  to  impose  on  Esther  Tidditt  would 
have  as  lively  a  time  as  a  bare- footed  man  trying  tp  dance 
a  hornpipe  on  a  wasp's  nest.  "She'll  keep  'em  hoppin*  high, 
/  tell  ye/'  proclaimed  Judah. 

Little  Mrs.  Tidditt  would  have  liked  to  keep  Mr.  Phillips 
hopping  high,  and  did  administer  sly  digs  to  his  grandeur 
whenever  she  could.  In  the  praise  services  among  the 
"inmates"  which  were  almost  sure  to  follow  a  call  of  the 
great  man  at  the  Fair  Harbor  it  was  disconcerting  and  pro 
voking  to  the  worshipers  to  have  Esther  refer  to  the  idol  as 
"that  Eg."  Mrs.  Brackett  took  her  to  task  for  it. 

"You  ought  to  have  more  respect  for  his  wife's  memory, 
if  nothin*  else,"  snapped  Susanna.  "If  it  hadn't  been  for 
her  and  her  generosity  you  wouldn't  be  here,  Esther  Tid 
ditt." 

"Yes,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  her  he  wouldn't  be  here. 
He'd  have  been  teachin'  singin'  school  yet — if  he  wasn't  in 
jail.  You  can  call  him  To-or  de-ar  Mr.  Phillips,'  if  you 
want  to;  /  call  him  'Old  Eg.'  And  he  is  a  bad  egg,  too, 
'cordin*  to  my  notion.  Prob'ly  that's  why  his  wife  and 
Judge  Knowles  hove  him  out  of  the  nest." 

And,  as  Egbert  climbed  in  popularity  while  Captain  Sears 
Kendrick  slipped  back,  it  followed  naturally  that  Mrs.  Tid 
ditt  became  more  and  more  the  friend  and  champion  of  the 
latter.  She  went  out  of  her  way  to  do  him  favors  and  she 
made  it  her  business  to  keep  him  posted  on  the  happenings 
and  gossip  at  the  Fair  Harbor.  He  did  not  encourage  her 
in  this,  in  fact  he  attempted  tactfully  to  discourage  her,  but 
Esther  was  not  easily  discouraged. 

It  was  she  who  first  called  his  attention  to  Miss  Snow- 
den's  fondness  for  the  Phillips  society. 

"Elviry's  set  her  cap  for  him,"  declared  Mrs.  Tidditt. 
"The  way  she  sets  and  looks  mushy  at  him  when  he's 
preachin'  about  Portygee  pictures  and  such  is  enough  to 
keep  a  body  from  relishin'  their  meals." 

But  of  late,  according  to  Esther,  Elvira  was  no  longer  the 
first  violin  in  the  Phillips  orchestra. 

"She's    second    fiddle,"    announced    the    little    woman. 


FAIR    HARBOR  273 


"There's  another  craft  cut  acrost  her  bows.  If  you  ask  me 
who  'tis  I  can  tell  you,  too,  Cap'n  Sears." 

And  Sears  made  it  a  point  not  to  ask.  Once  it  was  Elvira 
herself  who  more  than  hinted,  and  in  the  presence  of  Eliza 
beth  and  the  captain.  The  latter  pair  were  at  the  desk 
together  when  Miss  Snowden  passed  through  the  room. 

"Where  is  mother?"  asked  Elizabeth.  "Have  you  seen 
her,  Elvira?" 

Elvira's  thin  lips  were  shut  tight. 

"Don't  ask  me,"  she  snapped,  viciously.  "She's  out  trap 
ping,  I  suppose." 

"Trapping!"  Elizabeth  stared  at  her.  "What  are  you 
talking  about?  Trapping  what?" 

"I  don't  know.  I'm  not  layin'  traps  to  catch  anything — or 
anybody  either." 

She  sailed  out  of  the  room.    Miss  Berry  turned  to  Sears. 

"Do  you  know  what  she  means,  Cap'n  Kendrick?"  she 
asked. 

Sears  did  know,  or  would  have  bet  heavily  on  his  guess. 
But  he  shook  his  head.  Elizabeth  was  not  satisfied. 

"Why  do  you  look  like  that?"  she  persisted.  "Do  you 
know?" 

"Eh?  .  .  .  Oh,  no,  no;  of  course  not.  .  .  .  I — I  think 
I  saw  your  mother  goin'  out  of  the  gate  as  I  came  across 
lots.  She — I  presume  likely  she  was  goin'  to  the  store  or 
somewhere." 

"She  didn't  tell  me  she  was  going.     Was  she  alone?" 

"Why — why,  no;  I  think — seems  to  me  Mr.  Phillips  was 
with  her." 

For  the  next  few  minutes  the  captain  devoted  his  entire 
attention  to  the  letter  he  was  writing.  He  did  not  look  up, 
but  he  was  quite  conscious  that  her  eyes  were  boring  him 
through  and  through.  During  the  rest  of  his  stay  she  was 
curt  and  cool.  When  he  went  she  did  not  bid  him  good-by. 

So  the  fuse  was  burning  merrily  and  the  inevitable  ex 
plosion  came  three  days  later.  The  scene  was  this  time  not 
the  Fair  Harbor  office,  but  the  Minot  kitchen.  Judah  was 
out  and  the  captain  was  alone,  reading  the  Item.  The  fire 


274  FAIR   HARBOR 


in  the  range  was  a  new  one  and  the  kitchen  was  very  warm, 
so  Sears  had  opened  the  outer  door  in  order  to  cool  off  a 
bit.  It  was  a  beautiful  late  October  forenoon. 

The  captain  was  deep  in  the  Item's  account  of  the  recent 
wreck  on  Peaked  Hill  Bars.  A  British  bark  had  gone 
ashore  there  and  the  crew  had  been  rescued  with  difficulty. 
He  was  himself  dragged,  metaphorically  speaking,  from  the 
undertow  by  a  voice  just  behind  him. 

"Well,  you're  takin'  it  easy,  ain't  you,  Cap'n  Sears?"  ob 
served  Mrs.  Tidditt.  "I  wish  /  didn't  have  nothin'  to  do 
but  set  and  read  the  news." 

"Oh,  good  mornin',  Esther,"  said  the  captain.  He  was 
not  particularly  glad  to  see  her.  "What's  wrong;  any 
thing?" 

"Nothin'  but  my  batch  of  gingerbread,  and  a  quart  of 
molasses'll  save  that.  Can  you  spare  it  ?  Oh,  don't  get  up. 
I  know  where  Judah  keeps  it ;  I've  been  here  afore." 

She  went  to  the  closet,  found  the  molasses  jug,  and  filled 
her  pitcher.  Then  she  came  back  and  sat  down.  She  had 
not  been  invited  to  sit,  but  Esther  scorned  ceremony. 

"No,  sir,"  she  observed,  as  if  carrying  on  an  uninter 
rupted  conversation,  "I  can't  set  and  read  the  newspapers. 
And  I  can't  go  to  walk  neither,  even  if  'tis  such  weather  as 
'tis  to-day.  Some  folks  can,  though,  and  they've  gone." 

Sears  turned  the  page  of  the  Item.  He  made  no  com 
ment.  His  silence  did  not  in  the  least  disturb  his  caller. 

"Yes,  they've  gone,"  she  repeated.  "Right  in  the  middle 
of  the  forenoon,  too.  .  .  .  Oh,  well!  when  the  Admiral 
of  all  creation  comes  to  get  you  to  go  cruisin'  along  with 
him,  you  go,  I  suppose.  That  is,  some  folks  do.  I'd  like 
to  see  the  man  I'd  make  such  a  fool  of  myself  over." 

The  captain  was  reading  the  "Local  Jottings"  now.  Mrs. 
Tidditt  kept  serenely  on. 

"I  wouldn't  let  any  man  make  such  a  soft-headed  fool  of 
me,  she  declared.  "  'Twould  take  more  than  a  mustache 
and  a  slick  tongue  to  get  my  money  away  from  me — if  I 
had  any." 


FAIR    HARBOR  275 


Sears  was  obliged  to  give  up  the  Jottings.  He  sighed  and 
put  down  the  paper. 

"What's  the  matter,  Esther?"  he  asked.  "Who's  after 
your  money?" 

"Nobody,  and  good  reason  why,  too.  And  I  ain't  out 
cruisin'  'round  the  fields  with  an  Eg  neither." 

"With  an  egg?     Who  is?" 

"Who  do  you  think?  Cordelia  Berry,  of  course.  Him 
and  her  have  gone  for  what  he  calls  a  little  stroll.  He  said 
she  was  workin'  her  poor  brain  too  hard  and  a  little  fresh 
air  would  do  her  good.  Pity  about  her  poor  brain,  ain't  it? 
Well,  if  'twan't  a  poor  one  he'd  never  coax  her  into  marry  in' 
him,  that's  sartin." 

"Esther,  don't  talk  foolish." 

"Nothin'  foolish  about  it.  If  them  two  ain't  keepin'  com 
pany  then  I  never  saw  anybody  that  was.  He's  callin'  on 
her,  and  squirin'  her  'round,  and  waitin'  on  her  mornin', 
noon  and  night.  And  she — my  patience!  she  might  as  well 
hang  out  a  sign,  'Ready  and  WillinV  She  says  he's  the 
one  real  aristocrat  she  has  seen  since  she  left  her  father's 
home.  Poor  Cap'n  Ike,  he's  all  forgotten." 

Sears  stirred  uneasily.  Barring  Tidditt  exaggeration, 
he  was  inclined  to  believe  all  this  very  near  the  truth.  It 
merely  confirmed  his  own  suspicions. 

His  visitor  went  gayly  on.  "I'm  sorry  for  Elizabeth," 
she  said.  "I  don't  know  whether  the  poor  girl  realizes  how 
soon  she's  liable  to  have  that  Eg  for  a  step-pa.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  she  suspected  a  little.  I  don't  see  how  she  can 
help  it.  But,  Elviry  Snowden — oh,  dear,  dear!  If  she  ain't 
the  sourest  mortal  these  days.  I  do  get  consider'ble  fun  out 
of  Elviry.  She's  the  one  thing  that  keeps  me  reconciled  to 
life." 

The  captain  thought  he  saw  an  opportunity  to  shift  Mrs. 
Berry  from  the  limelight  and  substitute  some  one  else. 

"I  thought  Elvira  Snowden  was  the  one  you  said  meant 
to  get  Egbert,"  he  suggested. 

"So  I  did,  and  so  she  was.  But  she  don't  count  nowa 
days." 


276  FAIR   HARBOR 


"Why  doesn't  she?" 

"Well,  if  you  ask  me  I  shall  give  you  an  answer.  Elviry 
Snowden  ain't  fell  heir  to  five  thousand  dollars  and  Cordelia 
Berry  has.  That's  why." 

Sears  uneasily  shifted  again.  This  conversation  was  fol 
lowing  much  too  closely  his  own  line  of  reasoning. 

"Five  thousand  isn't  any  great  fortune,"  he  observed,  "to 
a  man  like  Phillips." 

The  little  woman  nodded.  "It's  five  thousand  dollars  to 
a  man  just  like  Phillips — now,"  she  said,  significantly. 
"And,  more'n  that,  Cordelia's  matron  at  the  Harbor.  The 
Fair  Harbor  ain't  a  Eyetalian  palace  maybe,  but  it's  a  nice, 
com  f 'table  place  where  the  matron's  husband  might  live  easy 
and  not  pay  board.  .  .  .  That's  my  guess.  Other  folks 
can  have  theirs  and  welcome." 

"But " 

"There  ain't  no  buts  about  it,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  You 
know  it's  so.  Eg  Phillips  is  goin'  to  marry  Cordelia  Berry. 
My  name  ain't  Elijah  nor  Jeremiah — no,  nor  Deuteronomy 
nuther — but  I  can  prophesy  that  much." 

She  rose  with  a  triumphant  bounce,  turned  to  the  open 
door  behind  her,  and  saw  Elizabeth  Berry  standing  there. 
Sears  Kendrick  saw  her  at  the  same  time. 

There  are  periods  in  the  life  of  each  individual  when  it 
seems  as  if  Fate  was  holding  a  hammer  above  that  indi 
vidual's  head  and,  at  intervals,  as  the  head  ventures  to  lift 
itself,  knocking  it  down  again.  Each  successive  tap  seems 
a  bit  harder,  and  the  victim,  during  the  interval  of  its  fall 
ing,  wonders  if  it  is  to  be  the  final  and  finishing  thump. 

Sears  did  not  wonder  this  time,  he  knew.  His  thought, 
as  he  saw  her  there,  saw  the  expression  upon  her  face  and 
realized  what  she  must  have  heard,  was :  "Here  it  is !  This 
is  the  end." 

Yet  he  was  the  first  of  the  two  to  speak.  Elizabeth,  white 
and  rigid,  said  nothing,  and  even  Mrs.  Tidditt's  talking  ma 
chinery  seemed  to  be  temporarily  thrown  out  of  gear.  S0 
the  captain  made  the  attempt,  a  feeble  one. 


FAIR    HARBOR  277 


"Why,  Elizabeth,"  he  faltered,  "is  that  you?  ...  Come 
in,  won't  you?" 

She  did  come  in,  that  is,  she  came  as  far  as  the  door  mat. 
Then  she  turned,  not  to  him,  but  to  his  companion. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  speaking  in  that  way  of  my 
mother?"  she  demanded. 

Esther  was  still  a  trifle  off  balance.  Her  answer  was 
rather  incoherent. 

"I — I  don't  know's  I — as  I  said — as  I  said  much  of  any 
thing — much,"  she  stammered. 

"I  heard  you.     How  dare  you  tell  such — such  lies?" 

"Lies?" 

"Yes ;  mean,  miserable  lies.  What  else  are  they  ?  How 
dare  you  run  to — to  him  with  them  ?" 

Mrs.  Tidditt's  hand,  that  grasping  the  handle  of  the  mo 
lasses  pitcher,  began  to  quiver.  Her  eyes,  behind  her  steel- 
rimmed  spectacles,  winked  rapidly. 

"Elizabeth  Berry,"  she  snapped,  with  ominous  emphasis, 
"don't  you  talk  to  me  like  that !" 

"I  shall  talk  to  you  as — as  ...  Oh,  I  should  be  ashamed 
to  talk  to  you  at  all.  My  mother — my  kind,  trustful,  un 
suspecting  mother!  And  you — you  and  he  dare " 

Kendrick,  in  desperation,  tried  to  put  in  a  word. 

"Elizabeth,"  he  begged,  "don't  misunderstand.  Esther 
hasn't  been  runnin'  here  to  tell  me  things.  She  came  over 
to  borrow  some  molasses  from  Judah,  that's  all." 

"Oh,  stop!  I  tell  you  I  heard  what  she  said.  And  you 
were  listening.  Listening!  Without  a  word  of  protest.  I 
suppose  you  encouraged  her.  Of  course  you  did.  No 
doubt  this  isn't  the  first  time.  This  may  be  her  usual  re 
port.  Not  content  with — with  prying  into  closets  and — and 
coal  bins  and — and " 

"Elizabeth!" 

"Doing  these  things  for  yourself  was  not  enough,  I  sup 
pose.  You  must  encourage  her — pay  her,  perhaps — to  lis 
ten  and  whisper  scandal  and  to  spy " 

"Stop!  Stop  right  there!"  The  captain  was  not  begging 
now.  Even  in  the  midst  of  her  impassioned  outburst  the 


278  FAIR   HARBOR 


young  woman  paused,  halted  momentarily  by  the  compell 
ing  force  of  that  order.  But  she  halted  unwillingly. 

"I  shall  not  stop,"  she  declared.    "I  shall  say " 

"You  have  said  a  whole  lot  too  much  already.  And  you 
don't  mean  what  you  have  said." 

"I  do !     I  do !     Oh,  I  can't  tell  you  what  I  think  of  you." 

"Well,"  dryly,  "you  have  made  a  pretty  fair  try  at  tellin' 
it.  If  it  is  what  you  really  think  of  me  it'll  do — it  will  be 
quite  enough.  I  shan't  need  any  more." 

He  was  looking  at  her  gravely  and  steadily  and  before  his 
look  her  own  gaze  wavered.  If  they  had  been  alone  it  is 
barely  possible  that  .  .  .  but  they  were  not  alone.  Mrs. 
Tidditt  was  there  and,  by  this  time,  as  Judah  would  have 
said,  "her  neck- feathers  were  on  end"  and  her  spurs  sharp 
ened  for  battle.  She  hopped  into  the  pit  forthwith. 

"I  need  consider'ble  more,"  she  cackled,  defiantly.  "I've 
been  called  a  spy  and  a  scandal  whisperer  and  the  Lord 
knows  what  else.  Now  I'll  say  somethin'." 

"Esther,  be  still." 

"I  shan't  be  still  till  I'm  ready,  not  for  you,  Sears  Ken- 
drick,  nor  for  her  nor  nobody  else.  I  ain't  a  spy,  'Liz'beth 
Berry,  and  I  ain't  paid  by  no  livin'  soul.  But  I  see  what  I 
see  with  the  eyes  the  Almighty  give  me  to  see  with,  and 
after  I've  seen  it — not  alone  once  but  forty  dozen  times — 
I'll  talk  about  it  if  I  want  to,  when  I  want  to,  to  anybody  I 
want  to.  Now  that's  that  much." 

Elizabeth,  scornfully  silent,  was  turning  to  the  door,  but 
the  little  woman  hopped-*=— that  seems  the  only  word  which 
describes  it — in  her  way. 

"You  ain't  goin',"  she  declared,  "till  I've  finished.  Twon't 
take  me  long  to  say  it,  but  it's  goin'  to  be  said.  I  told 
Cap'n  Sears  that  Eg  Phillips  was  chasin'  'round  with  your 
mother.  He  is.  And  if  she  ain't  glad  to  have  him  chase 
her  then  I  never  see  anybody  that  was.  I  said  them  two 
was  cal'latin'  to  get  married.  Well  .  .  .  well,  if  they  ain't 
then  they'd  ought  to  be,  that's  all  I'll  say  about  that.  And 
don't  you  ever  call  me  a  spy  again  as  long  as  you  live, 
'Liz'beth  Berry." 


FAIR    HARBOR  279 


She  hopped  again,  to  the  doorway  this  time.  There  she 
turned  for  a  farewell  cackle. 

"One  thing  more,"  she  said.  "I  told  the  cap'n  I  believed 
the  reason  that  that  Eg  man  wanted  to  marry  Cordelia  was 
on  account  of  her  bein'  able  to  give  him  five  thousand  dol 
lars  and  the  Fair  Harbor  to  live  in.  I  do  believe  it.  And 
you  can  tell  her  so — or  him  so.  But  afore  I  told  anybody 
Fd  think  it  over,  if  I  was  you,  'Liz'beth  Berry.  And  Fd 
think  him  over  a  whole  lot  afore  Fd  let  him  and  his  'ily 
tongue  make  trouble  between  you  and  your  real  friends.  .  .  . 
There !  Good-by." 

She  went  awa\      Kendrick  pulled  at  his  beard. 

"Elizabeth,"  he  began,  hastily,  "Fm  awfully  sorry  that 
this  happened.  Of  course  you  know  that  I " 

She  interrupted  him.  "I  know,"  she  said,  "that  if  I  ever 
speak  to  you  again  it  will  be  because  I  am  obliged  to,  not 
because  I  want  to." 

She  followed  Mrs.  Tidditt.  Sears  Kendrick  sat  down 
once  more  in  the  rocking  chair. 

He  did  a  great  deal  of  hard  and  unpleasant  thinking  be 
fore  he  rose  from  it.  When  he  did  rise  it  was  to  go  to  the 
drawer  in  the  bureau  of  the  spare  stateroom  where  he  kept 
his  writing  materials,  take  therefrom  pen,  ink  and  paper  and 
sit  down  at  the  table  to  write  a  letter.  The  letter  was  not 
long  of  itself,  but  composing  it  was  a  rather  lengthy  process. 
It  was  addressed  to  Elizabeth  Berry  and  embodied  his  resig 
nation  as  trustee  and  guardian  of  her  inheritance  from  Judge 
Knowles. 

"As  I  see  it  [he  wrote]  I  am  not  the  one  to  have  charge 
of  that  money.  I  took  the  job,  as  you  know,  because  the 
judge  asked  me  to  and  because  you  asked  me.  I  took  it 
with  r  good  deal  of  doubt.  Now,  considering  the  way  you 
feel  towards  me,  I  haven't  any  doubt  that  I  should  give  it 
up.  I  don't  want  you  to  make  the  mistake  of  thinking  that 
I  feel  guilty.  So  far  as  I  know  I  have  not  done  anything 
which  was  not  square  and  honest  and  aboveboard,  either 
where  you  were  concerned,  or  your  mother,  or  what  I  be- 


280  FAIR    HARBOR 


lieved  to  be  the  best  interests  of  the  Fair  Harbor.  And  I 
am  not  giving  up  my  regular  berth  as  general  manager  of 
the  Harbor  itself.  Judge  Knowles  asked  me  to  keep  that 
as  long  as  I  thought  it  was  necessary  for  the  good  of  the 
institution.  I  honestly  believe  it  is  more  necessary  now 
than  it  ever  was.  And  I  shall  stay  right  on  deck  until  I 
feel  the  need  is  over.  I  shan't  bother  you  with  my  company 
any  more  than  I  can  help,  but  you  will  have  to  put  up  with 
it  about  every  once  in  so  often  while  we  go  over  business 
affairs.  So  much  for  that.  The  trusteeship  is  different  and 
I  resign  it  to  Mr.  Bradley,  who  was  the  judge's  second 
choice." 

He  paused  here,  deliberated  for  a  time,  and  then  added 
another  paragraph. 

"I  feel  sure  Bradley  will  take  it  [he  wrote].  If  he  should 
refuse  I  will  not  give  it  up  to  any  one  else.  At  least  not 
unless  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  person  chosen.  This 
is  for  your  safety  and  for  no  other  reason." 

He  sent  the  letter  over  by  Judah.  Two  days  later  he 
received  a  reply.  It,  too,  was  brief  and  to  the  point. 

"I  accept  your  resignation  [wrote  Elizabeth].  It  was 
Judge  Knowles'  wish  that  you  be  my  trustee,  and,  as  you 
know,  it  was  mine  also.  Apparently  you  no  longer  feel 
bound  by  either  wish,  and  of  course  I  shall  not  beg  you  to 
change  your  mind.  I  have  no  right  to  influence  you  in  any 
way.  I  have  seen  Mr.  Bradley  and  he  has  consented  to 
act  as  trustee  for  me.  He  will  see  you  in  a  day  or  two. 
As  for  the  other  matters  I  have  nothing  to  say.  Whenever 
you  wish  to  consult  with  me  on  business  affairs  I  shall  be 
ready." 

There  was  a  postscript.     It  read : 

"I  feel  that  I  should  thank  you  for  what  you  have  already 
done.  I  do  thank  you  sincerely." 


FAIR    HARBOR  281 


So  that  ended  it,  and  ended  also  what  had  been  a  happy 
period  for  Sears  Kendrick.  He  made  no  more  informal 
daily  visits  to  the  Fair  Harbor.  Twice  a  week,  at  stated 
times,  he  and  Elizabeth  met  in  the  office  and  conferred  con 
cerning  bills,  letters  and  accounts.  She  was  calm  and  im 
personal  during  these  interviews,  and  he  tried  to  be  so. 
There  was  no  reference  to  other  matters  and  no  more  cheer 
ful  and  delightful  chats,  no  more  confidences  between  them. 
It  did  seem  to  him  that  she  was  more  absent-minded,  less 
alert  and  attentive  to  the  business  details  than  she  had  been, 
and  at  times  he  thought  that  she  looked  troubled  and  care 
worn.  Perhaps,  however,  this  was  but  his  imagining,  a 
sort  of  reflection  of  his  own  misery.  For  he  was  miserable 
— miserable,  pessimistic  and  pretty  thoroughly  disgusted  with 
life.  His  health  and  strength  were  gaining  always,  but  he 
found  little  consolation  in  this.  He  could  not  go  to  sea 
just  yet.  He  had  promised  Judge  Knowles  to  stick  it  out 
and  stick  he  would.  But  he  longed — oh,  how  he  longed ! — 
for  the  blue  water  and  a  deck  beneath  his  feet.  Perhaps,  a 
thousand  miles  from  land,  with  a  gale  blowing  and  a  ship 
to  handle,  as  a  real  deep-sea  skipper  he  could  forget — forget 
a  face  and  a  voice  and  a  succession  of  silly  fancies  which 
could  not,  apparently,  he  wholly  forgotten  by  the  middle- 
aged  skipper  of  an  old  women's  home. 

One  morning,  after  a  troubled  night,  on  his  way  to  a 
conference  with  Elizabeth  at  the  Fair  Harbor  office,  he  met 
Mr.  Egbert  Phillips.  The  latter,  serene,  benign,  elegant, 
was  entering  at  the  gateway  beneath  the  swinging  sign  which 
proclaimed  to  the  other  world  that  within  the  Harbor  all 
was  peace.  Of  late  Captain  Kendrick  had  found  a  certain 
flavor  of  irony  in  the  wording  of  that  sign. 

Kendrick  and  Phillips  reached  the  gate  at  the  same  mo 
ment.  They  exchanged  good  mornings.  Egbert's  was 
sweetly  and  condescendingly  gracious,  the  captain's  rather 
short  and  brusque.  Since  the  encounter  in  the  office  where, 
in  the  presence  of  Elizabeth,  Phillips'  polite  inuendoes  had 
goaded  Sears  into  an  indiscreet  revelation  of  his  real  feeling 
toward  the  elegant  widower — since  that  day  relations  be- 


282  FAIR    HARBOR 


tween  the  two  had  been  maintained  on  a  basis  of  armed 
neutrality.  They  bowed,  they  smiled,  they  even  spoke,  al 
though  seldom  at  length.  Kendrick  had  made  up  his  mind 
not  to  lose  his  temper  again.  His  adversary  should  not 
have  that  advantage  over  him. 

But  this  morning  to  save  his  life  he  could  not  have  ap 
peared  as  unruffled  as  usual.  The  night  had  been  uncom 
fortable,  his  waking  thoughts  disturbing.  His  position  was 
a  hard  one,  he  was  feeling  rebellious  against  Fate  and  even 
against  Judge  Knowles,  who,  as  Fate's  agent,  had  gotten 
him  into  that  position.  And  the  sight  of  the  tall  figure, 
genteelly  swinging  its  cane  and  beaming  patronage  upon  the 
world  in  general,  was  a  little  too  much  for  him.  So  his 
good  morning  was  more  of  a  grunt  than  a  greeting. 

It  may  be  that  Egbert  noticed  this.  Or  it  may  be  that 
with  his  triumph  so  closely  approaching  a  certainty  he  could 
not  resist  a  slight  gloat.  At  all  events  he  paused  for  an 
instant,  a  demure  gleam  in  his  eye  and  the  corner  of  his  lip 
beneath  the  drooping  mustache  lifting  in  an  amused  smile. 

"A  beautiful  day,  Captain,"  he  said. 

Kendrick  admitted  the  day's  beauty.  He  would  have 
passed  through  the  gateway,  but  Mr.  Phillips'  figure  and 
Mr.  Phillips'  cane  blocked  the  way. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  we  do  not  see  as  much  of  you  here 
at  the  Harbor  as  we  used,  Captain  Kendrick,"  observed 
Egbert.  "Or  is  that  my  fancy  merely?" 

The  captain's  answer  was  noncommittal.  Again  he  at 
tempted  to  pass  and  again  the  Phillips'  walking-stick  casually 
prevented. 

"I  trust  that  nothing  serious  has  occurred  to  deprive  us 
of  your  society,  Captain?"  queried  the  owner  of  the  stick, 
solicitously.  "No  accident,  no  further  accident,  or  anything 
of  that  sort?" 

"No." 

"And  you  are  quite  well?  Pardon  me,  but  I  fancied  that 
you  looked-1— ah — shall  I  say  disturbed — or  worried,  per 
haps?" 

"No.     I'm  all  right." 


FAIR   HARBOR  283 


"I  am  so  glad  to  hear  it.  I  gathered — that  is,  I  feared 
that  perhaps  the  cares  incidental  to  your — "  again  the  slight 
smile — "your  labors  as  general  supervisor  of  the  Harbor 
might  be  undermining  your  health.  I  am  charmed  to  have 
you  tell  me  that  that  is  not  the  case/' 

"Thanks." 

"Of  course — "  Mr.  Phillips  drew  a  geometrical  figure  with 
the  cane  in  the  earth  of  the  flower  bed  by  the  path — "of 
course,"  he  said,  "speaking  as  one  who  has  had  some  sad 
experience  with  illness  and  that  sort  of  thing,  it  has  always 
seemed  to  me  that  one  should  not  take  chances  with  one's 
health.  If  the  cares  of  a  particular  avocation — situation — 
position — whatever  it  may  be — if  the  cares  and — ah — disap 
pointments  incidental  to  it  are  affecting  one's  physical  con 
dition  it  has  always  seemed  to  me  wiser  to  sacrifice  the 
first  for  the  second.  And  make  the  sacrifice  in  time.  You 
see  what  I  mean?" 

Kendrick,  standing  by  the  post  of  the  gateway,  looked  at 
him. 

"Why,  no,"  he  said,  slowly,  "I  don't  know  that  I  do. 
What  do  you  mean  ?" 

The  cane  was  drawn  through  the  first  figure  in  the  flower 
bed  and  began  to  trace  another.  Again  Mr.  Phillips  smiled. 

"Why,  nothing  in  particular,  my  dear  sir,"  he  replied. 
"Perhaps  nothing  at  all.  ...  I  had  heard — mere  rumor, 
no  doubt — that  you  contemplated  giving  up  your  position  as 
superintendent  here.  I  trust  it  is  not  true?" 

"It  isn't." 

"I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  say  so.  We — we  of  the 
Harbor — should  miss  you  greatly." 

"Thanks.  Do  you  mind  telling  me  who  told  you  I  was 
goin'  to  give  up  the  superintendent's  position?" 

"Why,  I  don't  remember.  It  came  to  my  ears,  it  seemed 
to  be  a  sort  of  general  impression.  Of  course,  now  that 
you  tell  me  it  is  not  true  I  shall  take  pains  to  deny  it.  And 
permit  me  to  express  my  gratification." 

"Just  a  minute.  Did  they  say — did  this  general  impres 
sion  say  why  I  was  givin'  up  the  job?" 


284  FAIR    HARBOR 


"No-o,  no,  I  think  not.  I  believe  it  was  hinted  that  you 
were  not  well  and — perhaps  somewhat  tired — a  little  dis 
couraged — that  sort  of  thing.  As  I  say,  it  was  mere  ru 
mor." 

Sears  smiled  now — that  is,  his  lips  smiled,  his  eyes  were 
grave  enough. 

"Well,"  he  observed,  deliberately,  "if  you  have  a  chance, 
Mr.  Phillips,  you  can  tell  those  mere  rumorers  that  I'm  not 
tired  at  all.  My  health  is  better  than  it  has  been  for  months. 
So  far  from  bein'  discouraged,  you  can  tell  'em  that — 
well,  you  know  what  Commodore  Paul  Jones  told  the  Brit 
ish  cap'n  who  asked  him  to  surrender;  he  told  him  that  he 
had  just  begun  to  fight.  That's  the  way  it  is  with  me,  Mr. 
Phillips,  I've  just  begun  to  fight." 

The  cane  was  lifted  from  the  flower  bed.  Egbert  nodded 
in  polite  appreciation. 

"Really?"  he  said.    "How  interesting,  Captain!" 

Kendrick  nodded,  also.  "Yes,  isn't  it  ?"  he  agreed.  "Were 
you  goin'  into  the  Harbor,  Phillips  ?  So  am  I.  We'll  walk 
along  together." 

But  that  night  he  went  to  his  bed  in  better  spirits.  Eg 
bert's  little  dig  had  been  the  very  thing  he  needed,  and  now 
he  knew  it.  He  had  been  discouraged ;  in  spite  of  his  dec 
laration  in  his  letter  to  Elizabeth  Berry,  he  had  wished  that 
it  were  possible  to  run  away  from  the  Fair  Harbor  and 
everything  connected  with  it.  But  now — now  he  had  no 
wish  of  that  kind.  If  Judge  Knowles  could  rise  from  the 
grave  and  bid  him  quit  he  would  not  do  it. 

Quit?  Not  much!  Like  Paul  Jones,  he  had  just  begun 
to  fight. 


CHAPTER   XV 

BUT  there  was  so  little  that  was  tangible  to  fight,  that 
was  the  trouble.  If  Mr.  Egbert  Phillips  was  the 
villain  of  the  piece  he  was  such  a  light  and  airy 
villain  that  it  was  hard  to  take  him  seriously  enough.  Even 
when  Kendrick  was  most  thoroughly  angry  with  him  and 
most  completely  convinced  that  he  was  responsible  for  all 
his  own  troubles,  including  the  loss  of  Elizabeth  Berry's 
friendship — even  then  he  found  it  hard  to  sit  down  and  de 
liberately  plan  a  campaign  against  him.  It  seemed  like  cam 
paigning  against  a  butterfly.  The  captain  disliked  him  ex 
tremely,  but  he  never  felt  a  desire  to  knock  him  down.  To 
kick  him — yes.  Perhaps  to  thump  the  beaver  hat  over  his 
eyes  and  help  him  down  the  brick  path  of  the  Harbor  with 
the  judicious  application  of  a  boot,  grinning  broadly  during 
the  process — that  was  Sears  Kendrick's  idea  of  a  fitting 
treatment  for  King  Egbert  the  Great. 

The  captain  had  done  his  share  of  fighting  during  an 
adventurous  lifetime,  but  his  opponents  had  always  been 
men.  Somehow  Phillips  did  not  seem  to  him  like  a  man. 
A  creature  so  very  ornamental,  with  so  much  flourish,  so 
superlatively  elegant,  so  overwhelmingly  correct,  so  alto 
gether  and  all  the  time  the  teacher  of  singing  school  or 
dancing  school — how  could  one  seriously  set  about  fighting 
such  a  bundle  of  fluff?  A  feather-duster  seemed  a  more 
fitting  weapon  than  a  shotgun. 

But  the  fluff  was  flying  high  and  in  the  sunshine  and  was 
already  far  out  of  reach  of  the  duster.  Soon  it  would  be 
out  of  reach  of  the  shotgun.  Unless  the  fight  was  made 
serious  and  deadly  at  once  there  would  be  none  at  all.  Un 
less,  having  already  lost  about  all  that  made  life  worth  liv- 

285 


286  FAIR   HARBOR 


ing,  Sears  Kendrick  wished  to  be  driven  from  Bayport  in 
inglorious  rout,  he  had  better  campaign  in  earnest.  Passive 
resistance  must  end. 

As  a  beginning  he  questioned  Judah  once  more  concerning 
Phillips'  standing  in  the  community.  It  was  unchanged,  so 
Judah  said.  He  was  quite  as  popular,  still  the  brave  and  un 
complaining  martyr,  always  the  idol  of  the  women  and  a 
large  proportion  of  the  men. 

"Did  you  hear  about  him  down  to  the  Orthodox  church 
fair  last  week?"  asked  Mr.  Cahoon.  "You  didn't!  Creep- 
in'  !  I  thought  everybody  aboard  had  heard  about  that. 
Seems  they'd  sold  about  everything  there  was  to  sell,  but 
of  course  there  was  a  few  things  left,  same  as  there  always 
is,  and  amongst  'em  was  a  patchwork  comforter  that  old 
Mrs.  Jarvis — Capn'  Azariah  Jarvis's  second  wife  she  was — 
you  remember  Cap'n  Azariah,  don't  ye,  Cap'n  Sears?  He 
was  the  one  that  used  to  swear  so  like  fury.  Didn't  mean 
nothin'  by  it,  just  a  habit  'twas,  same  as  usin'  tobacco  or 

rum  is  with  some  folks.  Didn't  know  when Eh?  Oh, 

yes,  about  that  comforter.  Why,  old  Mrs.  Jarvis  she  made 
it  for  the  fair  and  it  wan't  sold.  'Twas  one  of  them  log- 
cabin  quilts,  you  know.  I  don't  know  why  they  call  'em  log 
cabins,  they  don't  look  no  more  like  a  log  cabin  than  my 
head  does.  I  cal'late  they  have  to  call  'em  somethin'  so's 
to  tell  'em  from  the  risin'  sun  quilts  and  the  mornin'-glory 
quilts  and — and  the  Lord-knows-what  quilts.  The  women 
folks  make  mo-ore  kinds  of  them  quilts  and  comforters, 
seems  so,  than 

"Eh?  Oh,  yes,  I'm  beatin'  up  to  Egbert,  Cap'n  Sears; 
I'll  be  alongside  him  in  a  minute,  give  me  steerage  way. 
Well,  the  log-cabin  quilt  wan't  sold  and  they  wanted  to  sell 
it,  partly  because  old  Mrs.  Jarvis  would  feel  bad  if  nobody 
bought  it,  and  partly  because  the  meetin'-house  folks  would 
feel  worse  if  any  money  got  away  from  'em  at  a  fair.  So 
Mr.  Dishup  he  says,  'We'll  auction  of  it  off/  he  says,  'and 
our  honored  and  beloved  friend,  Mr.  Phillips,  will  maybe 
so  be  kind  enough  to  act  as  auctioneer.'  So  Eg,  he  got 
up  and  apologized  for  bein'  chose,  and  went  on  to  say  what 


FAIR    HARBOR  287 


a  all-'round  no-good  auctioneer  he'd  be  but  how  he  couldn't 
say  no  to  the  folks  of  the  church  where  his  dear  diseased 
wife  had  worshiped  so  long,  and  then  he  started  in  to  sell 
that  comforter.  Did  he  sell  it?  Why,  creepin',  crawlin', 
hoppin'  .  .  .  Cap'n  Sears,  he  could  have  sold  a  shipload  of 
them  log-cabins  if  he'd  had  'em  handy.  He  held  the  thing 
up  in  front  of  'em,  so  they  tell  me,  and  he  just  praised  it 
up  same  as  John  B.  Gough  praises  up  cold  water  at  a  tem- 
p'rance  lecture.  He  told  how  the  old  woman  had  worked 
over  it,  and  set  up  nights  over  it,  and  got  her  nerves  all  into 
a  titter  and  her  finger  ends  all  rags,  as  you  might  say,  and 
how  she  had  done  it  just  to  do  somethin'  for  the  meetin'- 
house  she  thought  so  much  of,  the  church  that  her  loved 
and  lost  husband  used  to  come  to  so  reg'lar.  That  was  all 
fiddlesticks,  'cause  Cap'n  Az  never  went  to  church  except 
for  the  six  weeks  after  he  was  married,  and  pretty  scat- 
terin'  'long  the  last  three  of  them. 

"Well,  he  hadn't  talked  that  way  very  long  afore  he  had 
that  whole  vestry  as  damp  as  a  fishin'  schooner's  deck  in  a 
Banks  fog.  All  hands — even  the  men  that  had  been  spend- 
in*  money  for  the  fair  things,  tidies  and  aprons  and  splint 
work  picture-frames  and  such,  even  they  was  cryin'.  And 
then  old  Mrs.  Jarvis — and  she  was  cryin',  too — she  went 
and  whispered  to  the  minister  and  he  whispered  to  Phillips 
and  Phillips,  he  says:  'Ladies  and  gentlemen,'  he  says,  "I 
have  just  learned  that  a  part  of  this  quilt  was  made  from  a 
suit  of  clothes  worn  by  Cap'n  Jarvis  on  his  last  v'yage,'  he 
says.  'Just  think  of  it,'  says  he,  'this  blue  strip  here  is  a 
part  of  the  coat  worn  by  him  as  he  trod  the  deck  of  his  ship 
homeward  bound — bound  home  to  his  wife,  bound  home  to 
die/ 

"Well,  all  hands  cried  more'n  ever  at  that,  and  Mrs.  Jarvis 
got  up,  with  the  tears  a-runnin',  and  says  she :  'It  wan't  his 
coat/  she  says.  'I  sold  the  coat  and  vest  to  a  peddler. 

'Twas  his '  But  Egbert  cut  in  afore  she  could  tell  what 

'twas,  and  then  he  got  'em  to  biddin'.  Creepin'  Henry, 
Cap'n  Sears !  that  log-cabin  quilt  sold  for  nine  dollars  and  a 
half,  and  the  man  that  bought  it  was  Philander  Comstock. 


288  FAIR    HARBOR 


the  tailor  over  to  Denboro.  And  Philander  told  me  himself 
that  he  didn't  know  why  he  bought  it.  '/  made  that  suit 
of  clothes  for  Cap'n  Azariah,  myself/  he  says,  'and  he  died 
afore  I  got  half  my  pay  for  it.  But  that  Phillips  man,' 
he  says,  'could  sell  a  spyglass  to  a  blind  man.' " 

The  captain  asked  Judah  if  he  had  heard  any  testimony 
on  the  other  side ;  were  there  any  people  in  Bayport  who 
did  not  like  Mr.  Phillips.  Judah  thought  it  over. 

"We-11,"  he  said,  reflectively,  "I  don't  know  as  I've  ever 
heard  anybody  come  right  out  and  call  him  names.  Any 
body  but  Esther  Tidditt,  that  is ;  she's  down  on  him  like  a 
sheet  anchor  on  a  crab.  Sometimes  Elviry  snaps  out  some- 
thin*  spiteful,  but  most  of  that's  jealousy,  I  cal'late.  You 
see,  Elviry  had  her  cap  all  set  for  this  Egbert  widower — 
that  is,  all  hands  seems  to  cal'late  she  had — and  then  she 
began  to  find  her  nose  was  bein'  put  out  of  j'int.  You  know 
who  they're  sayin'  put  it  out,  Cap'n  Sears?  There  seems  to 
be  a  general  notion  around  town  that " 

Kendrick  interrupted ;  this  was  a  matter  he  did  not  care  to 
discuss  with  Judah  or  any  one  else.  There  had  been  quite 
enough  said  on  that  subject. 

"Yes,  yes,  all  right,  Judah,"  he  said,  hastily.  "But  the 
men  ?  Do  the  men  like  him  as  well  as  the  women  ?" 

"Why — why,  yes,  I  guess  so.  Not  quite  so  well,  of 
course.  That  wouldn't  be  natural,  would  it,  Cap'n  Sears?" 

"Perhaps  not.  But  have  you  ever  heard  any  man  say 
anything  against  him,  anything  definite?  Does  he  pay  his 
bills?" 

"Eh?    Why,  I  don't  know.     I  ain't  never " 

"All  right.  Who  does  he  chum  around  with  mostly? 
Who  are  his  best  friends?" 

Mr.  Cahoon  gave  a  list  of  them,  beginning  of  course  with 
the  Wingates  and  the  Dishups  and  the  members  of  the 
Shakespeare  Reading  Society  and  ending  with  George  Kent. 

"He  cruises  along  with  George  a  whole  lot,"  declared 
Judah.  "Them  two  are  together  about  half  the  time. 
George  don't  work  to  the  store  no  more.  You  knew  that, 
didn't  you?" 


FAIR   HARBOR  289 


If  Sears  had  heard  it,  he  had  forgotten.  Judah  went  on 
to  explain. 

"He  hove  up  his  job  at  Eliphalet's  quite  a  spell  ago,"  he 
said.  "He's  studyin'  law  along  with  Bradley  same  as  ever, 
but  he's  busy  lawin'  here  in  Bayport,  too.  Some  of  his 
relations  died  and  left  a  lot  of  money,  so  folks  tell,  and 
George  is  what  they  call  administer  of  the  estate.  It's  an 
awful  good  thing  for  him,  all  hands  cal'late.  Some  say  he's 
rich." 

The  captain  vaguely  remembered  Kent's  disclosure  to 
him  concerning  his  appointment  as  administrator  of  his 
aunt's  estate.  He  had  not  exchanged  a  word  with  the  young 
man  since  the  evening  of  the  latter's  call  and  Elizabeth's 
interruption.  It  seemed  a  long  while  ago.  Much — and  so 
much  that  was  unpleasant — had  happened  since  then.  Kent 
and  he  had  met,  of  course,  and  on  the  first  two  or  three 
occasions,  Kendrick  had  spoken.  The  young  fellow  had  not 
replied.  Now,  at  the  mention  of  his  name,  Kendrick  felt  an 
uneasy  pang,  almost  of  guilt.  He  had  done  nothing  wrong, 
of  course,  yet  if  it  had  not  been  for  him  perhaps  the  two 
young  people  might  still  have  been  friends,  or  even  more 
than  friends.  It  was  true  that  Elizabeth  had  told  him  .  .  . 
but  there,  what  difference  did  it  make  what  she  told  him  ?  She 
had  told  him  other  things  since,  things  that  he  could  not 
forget. 

"Well,  all  right,  Judah,"  he  said.  "It  wasn't  important. 
Run  along." 

Judah  did  not  run  along.  He  remained,  looking  at  his 
lodger  with  a  troubled  expression.  The  latter  noticed  it. 

"What  is  it,  Judah?"  he  asked.     "Anything  wrong?" 

Mr.  Gaboon's  fingers  moved  uneasily  through  the  heavy 
foliage  upon  his  chin.  "Why — why,  Cap'n  Sears,"  he  stam 
mered,  "can  I  ask  you  somethin'?" 

"Certain.     Fire  away." 

"Well — well — it — it  ain't  true,  is  it,  that  you  done  any 
thing  to  set  Elizabeth  Berry  against  that  young  Kent  fel 
ler?  You  never  told  her  nothin' — or  did  nothin' — or — 
or " 


290  FAIR    HARBOR 


He  seemed  to  find  it  hard  to  finish  his  sentence.  The 
captain  did  not  wait,  but  asked  a  question  of  his  own. 

"Who  said  I  did,  Judah?"  he  asked. 

"Hey?  .  .  .  Oh,  I — I  don't  know.  Why — why,  some  of 
them  sculpin'-mouths  down  to  the  store  they  say  that  you — 
that  you  told  Elizabeth  a  lot  of  things — or  did  somethin'  or 
'nother  to  spite  George  with  her.  Of  course  /  knew  'twan't 
so,  but— but " 

"But  they  said  it  was,  eh?  Well,  it  isn't  true.  I  haven't 
done  anything  of  that  kind,  Judah." 

The  Cahoon  fist  descended  upon  the  kitchen  table  with 
a  thump.  "I  knew  it!"  roared  Judah.  "I  knew  dum  well 
'twas  a  cargo  of  lies.  Now  just  wait.  Let  one  of  them 
swabs  just  open  his  main  hatch  and  start  to  unload  another 
passel  of  that  cargo.  If  I  don't " 

"Shh,  shh!  Don't  do  that.  I  tell  you  what  to  do.  If 
you  want  to  help  me,  Judah,  you  say  nothin',  but  try  and 
find  out  who  told  them  these  things.  Some  one  has  been 
pretty  busy  tellin'  things  to  my  discredit  for  some  time. 
Don't  let  any  one  know  what  you're  after,  but  see  if  you 
can  find  out  who  is  responsible.  Will  you?" 

"Sartin  sure  I  will.     And  when  I  do  find  out " 

"When  you  do,  let  me  know.  And  Judah,  one  thing 
more :  Find  out  all  that  you  can  find  out  about  this  Phillips 
man.  See  if  he  owes  anybody  money.  See  if  he  pays  his 
debts.  See  if  he — well,  find  out  all  you  can  about  him;  but 
don't  let  any  one  know  you're  tryin'  to  find  out,  that's  all. 
Do  you  understand?" 

"Eh?  .  .  .  Why,  I  guess  likely  I  do.  ...  But— but 
...  Eh?  Cap'n  Sears,  do  you  mean  to  say  you  cal'late 
that  that  Eg  Phillips  is  at  the  back  of  all  this  talk  against 
you  in  Bayport?  Do  you  mean  that?" 

"Humph!  So  there  is  talk  against  me;  a  lot  of  it,  I 
suppose  ?" 

Judah  forgot  to  be  discreet.  "Talk!"  he  shouted. 
"There's  more  underhand,  sneakin'  lies  about  you  goin' 
around  this  flat-bottomed,  leaky,  gurry-and-bilgewater  tub 
of  a  town  than  there  is  fiddlers  in  Tophet.  I've  denied  'em 


FAIR   HARBOR  291 


and  contradicted  'em  till  I'm  hoarse  from  hollerin'.  I've 
offered  to  fight  anybody  who  dast  to  say  they  was  true,  but, 
by  the  hoppin'  Henry,  nobody  ever  said  any  more  than  that 
they'd  heard  they  was.  And  I  never  could  find  out  who 
started  'em.  And  do  you  mean  to  say  you  believe  that  long- 
legged  critter  with  the  beaver  hat  and  the — the  mustache 
like  a  drowned  cat's  tail  is  responsible?" 

Captain  Kendrick  hesitated  for  an  instant.  Then  he 
nodded.  "I  think  he  is,  Judah,"  he  said,  solemnly. 

"Then,  by  the  creeping  crawlin' " 

"Wait!  I  don't  know  that  he  is.  I  don't  know  much 
about  him.  But  I  mean  to  find  out  all  about  him,  if  I  can. 
And  I  want  you  to  help  me." 

"I'll  help.     And  when  you  find  out,  Cap'n?" 

"Well,  that  depends.  If  I  find  out  anything  that  will  give 
me  the  chance,  I'll — I'll  smash  him  as  flat  as  that." 

He  struck  the  table  now,  with  his  open  palm.  Mr.  Ca- 
hoon  grinned  delightedly. 

"I  bet  you  will,  Cap'n  Sears!"  he  vowed.  "And  if  he 
ain't  flat  enough  then  I'll  come  and  jump  on  him.  And  I 
ain't  no  West  Injy  hummin'-bird  neither." 

Kendrick's  next  move  was  to  talk  with  his  sister.  Her 
visits  at  the  Minot  place  had  not  been  quite  as  frequent  of 
late.  She  came,  of  course,  but  not  as  often,  or  so  it  seemed 
to  the  captain,  and  when  she  came  she  carefully  avoided  all 
reference  to  her  new  boarder.  Sears  knew  the  reason,  or 
thought  he  did.  He  had  hurt  her  feelings  by  intimating 
that  Mr.  Phillips  might  not  be  as  altogether  speckless  as 
she  thought  him.  He  had  not  enthused  over  her  giving  up 
the  best  parlor  to  his  Egbertship  and  Sarah  was  disap 
pointed.  But,  loyal  and  loving  soul  that  she  was,  she  would 
not  risk  even  the  slightest  disagreement  with  her  brother, 
and  so,  when  she  called,  spoke  of  everything  or  everybody 
but  the  possible  cause  of  such  disagreement.  Yet  the  cause 
was  there  and  between  brother  and  sister,  as  between  Eliza 
beth  and  Sears,  lay  the  slim,  lengthy,  gracefully  undulating 
shadow  of  Judge  Knowles'  pet  bugbear,  who  was  rapidly 
becoming  Sears  Kendrick's  bugbear  as  well. 


292  FAIR    HARBOR 


The  captain  had  not  visited  the  Macomber  home  more 
than  twice  since  Judah  carted  him  away  from  it  in  the  blue 
truck-wagon.  One  fine  day,  however,  he  and  the  Foam 
Flake  made  the  journey  again,  although  with  the  buggy,  not 
the  wagon.  He  chose  a  time  when  he  knew  Kent  was  al 
most  certain  to  be  over  at  Bradley's  office  in  Orham  and 
when  Phillips  was  not  likely  to  be  in  his  rooms.  Of  course 
there  was  a  chance  that  he  might  encounter  the  latter,  but  he 
thought  it  unlikely.  His  guess  was  a  good  one  and  Egbert 
was  out,  had  gone  for  a  ride,  so  Mrs.  Macomber  said.  Mrs. 
Cap'n  Elkanah  Wingate  had  furnished  the  necessary 
wherewithal  for  riding.  "The  Wingates  let  him  use  their 
horse  and  team  real  often,"  said  Sarah.  "They're  awful 
fond  of  him,  Mrs.  Wingate  especial.  I  don't  know  as  Cap'n 
Elkanah  is  so  much ;  he  is  kind  of  cross-grained  sometimes 
and  it's  hard  for  him  to  like  anybody  very  long." 

She  was  hard  at  work,  ironing  this  time,  but  she  would 
have  put  the  flatiron  back  on  the  stove  and  taken  her 
brother  to  the  sitting  room  if  he  had  permitted.  "The  idea 
of  a  man  like  you,  Sears,  havin*  to  sit  on  an  old  broken- 
down  chair  out  here  in  the  wash-shed,"  she  exclaimed.  "It 
ain't  fittin'." 

The  captain  sniffed.  "I  guess  if  it's  fittin'  for  you  to  be 
workin'  out  here  I  shouldn't  complain  at  sittin'  here,"  he 
observed.  "Is  that  Joel's  shirt?  He's  gettin'  awfully  high- 
toned — and  high  collared,  seems  to  me." 

Mrs.  Macomber  was  slightly  confused.  "Why,  no,"  she 
said,  "this  isn't  Joe's  shirt.  It's  Mr.  Phillips's.  Ain't  it 
lovely  linen?  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  saw  any  finer." 

Her  brother  leaned  back  in  the  broken  chair.  "Do  you 
do  his  washin*  for  him,  Sarah  ?"  he  demanded. 

"Why — why,  yes,  Sears.  You  see,  he's  real  particular 
about  how  it's  done,  and  of  course  you  can't  blame  him, 
he  has  such  lovely  things.  He  tried  two  of  the  regular 
washwomen,  Elsie  Doyle  and  Peleg  Carpenter's  wife,  and 
they  did  'em  up  just  dreadful.  So,  just  to  help  him  out  one 
time,  I  tried  'em  myself.  And  they  came  out  real  nice,  if 
I  do  say  it,  and  he  was  so  pleased.  So  ever  since  then  I 


FAIR    HARBOR  293 


have  been  doin'  'em  for  him.  It's  hardly  any  trouble — any 
extra  trouble.  I  have  to  do  our  own  washin',  you  know." 

Sears  did  know,  also  he  knew  the  size  of  that  washing. 

"Does  he  pay  you  for  it?"  he  asked,  sharply.  "Pay  you 
enough,  I  mean?" 

"Why — why,  yes.  Of  course  he  doesn't  pay  a  whole  lot. 
Not  as  much  maybe  as  if  he  was  a  stranger,  somebody  who 
didn't  pay  me  regular  board,  you  know." 

"Humph !     Do  you  get  your  money  ?" 

"Why,  yes.     Of  course  I  do." 

"He  doesn't  owe  you  anything,  then,  for  board  or  lodgin' 
or  anything?" 

Mrs.  Macomber  hesitated.  "Nothin'  much,"  she  replied, 
after  a  moment.  "Of  course  he  gets  a  little  behind  some 
times,  everybody  does  that,  you  know.  But  then  his  divi 
dend  payments  or  somethin'  come  to  him  and  he  pays  right 
up  in  a  lump.  It's  kind  of  nice  havin'  it  come  that  way, 
seems  more,  you  know." 

"Yes.  So  long  as  it  keeps  on  comin'.  His  dividends,  you 
say?  I  thought  the  story  was  that  he  hadn't  any  stocks  left 
to  get  dividends  from.  I  thought  he  told  all  hands  that  he 
was  poverty-stricken,  that  when  he  was  cut  out  of  the  Har 
bor  property  and  the  fifty  thousand  he  hadn't  a  copper." 

"Oh,  no,  not  as  bad  as  that.  He  had  some  stocks  and 
bonds,  of  course.  Why,  if  he  hadn't  where  would  he  get 
any  money  from?  How  could  he  live?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  seems  to  be  livin',  though,  and  pretty 
well.  Has  he  got  the  parlor  yet?" 

"Yes,  and  it's  fixed  up  so  pretty.  He's  got  his  pictures 
and  things  around.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  see  it?  He's  out, 
you  know." 

They  went  into  the  parlor  and  the  bedroom  adjoining, 
that  which  the  captain  had  occupied  during  his  stay.  Both 
rooms  were  as  neat  as  wax — Sears  expected  that,  knowing 
his  sister's  housekeeping — but  he  had  scarcely  expected  to 
find  the  rooms  so  changed.  The  furniture  was  the  same, 
but  the  wall  decorations  were  not. 


294  FAIR    HARBOR 


"What's  become  of  the  alum  basket  and  the  wax  wreath 
and  the  Rock  of  Ages  chromo?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  he  took  'em  down.  That  is,  he  didn't  do  it  himself, 
of  course,  but  he  had  Joel  do  it.  They're  up  attic.  Mr. 
Phillips  said  they  was  so  like  the  things  that  his  wife  used 
to  have  in  the  dear  old  home  that  he  couldn't  bear  to  see 
'em.  They  reminded  him  so  of  her.  He  asked  if  we  would 
mind  if  they  was  removed  and  we  said  no,  of  course." 

"Humph!  And  the  Macomber  family  coffin  plates,  those 
you  had  set  out  on  black  velvet  with  all  Joel's  dead  relations 
names  on  'em,  in  the  plush  and  gilt  frame?  Are  those  up 
attic,  too?" 

"Yes." 

"I  should  have  thought  'twould  have  broken  Joel's  heart 
to  part  with  them!" 

"Sears,  you're  makin'  fun.  I  don't  blame  you  much.  I 
always  did  hate  those  coffin  plates,  but  Joel  seemed  to  like 
'em.  They  were  in  his  folks'  front  parlor,  he  says." 

"Yes.  That  'Death  of  Washin'ton'  picture  and  the  round 
er-case  thing  with  the  locks  of  hair  in  it  were  there,  too,  you 
told  me  once.  That  must  have  been  a  lively  room.  Those 
— er — horse  pictures  are  Egbert's,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Yes.     He  is  real  fond  of  horses." 

The  "horse  pictures"  were  colored  plates  of  racers. 

"That's  a  portrait  of  his  wife  over  there,"  explained 
Sarah.  "She  had  it  painted  in  Italy  on  purpose  for  him." 

"Is  that  so?  Well,  I'm  glad  it  was  for  him.  I  shouldn't 
think  it  was  hardly  fittin'  for  anybody  outside  the  family. 
Of  course  Italy's  a  warm  climate,  but " 

"Sears!"  Mrs.  Macomber  blushed.  "Of  course  I  didn't 
mean  that  picture,"  she  protested.  "And  you  know  I  didn't. 
I  wouldn't  have  that  one  up  at  all  if  I  had  my  way.  But 
he  says  it's  an  old  master  and  very  famous  and  all  like  that. 
Maybe  so,  but  I'm  thankful  the  children  ain't  allowed  in 
here.  That's  Lobelia  over  there." 

In  the  bedroom  were  other  pictures,  photographs  for  the 
most  part.  Many  of  them  were  autographed. 

"They're  girl  friends  of  his  wife's,"  said  Sarah.     "She 


FAIR    HARBOR  295 


met  'em  over  abroad.  Real  pretty,  some  of  them,  ain't 
they  ?" 

They  were,  and  the  inscriptions  were  delightfully  informal 
and  friendly.  Lobelia  Phillips'  name  was  not  inscribed,  but 
her  husband's  was  occasionally.  Upon  the  table,  by  a  half- 
emptied  cigar  box,  lay  a  Boston  paper  of  the  day  before. 
It  was  folded  with  the  page  of  stock  market  quotations 
uppermost.  Sears  picked  it  up.  One  item  was  underscored 
with  a  pencil.  It  was  the  record  of  the  day's  sales  of  "C. 
M.,"  a  stock  with  which  the  captain  was  quite  unfamiliar. 
His  unfamiliarity  was  not  surprising;  he  had  little  acquaint 
ance  with  the  stock  market. 

Back  in  the  wash-shed,  brother  and  sister  chatted  while 
the  ironing  continued.  Sears  led  the  conversation  around 
until  it  touched  upon  George  Kent.  George  was  still  board 
ing  with  them,  so  Sarah  said.  Yes,  he  had  given  up  his 
place  as  bookkeeper  at  Bassett's  store. 

"He's  administrator  of  his  aunt's  estate,"  she  went  on. 
"You  knew  that,  Sears?  It's  a  pretty  responsible  position 
for  such  a  young  man,  I  guess.  I'm  afraid  it's  a  good  deal 
of  worry  for  him.  He's  seemed  to  me  kind  of  troubled 
lately.  I  thought  at  first  it  might  be  on  account  of  Eliza 
beth  Berry — everybody  knows  they've  had  some  quarrel  or 
somethin' — but  I'm  beginnin'  to  be  afraid  it  may  be  some- 
thin'  else.  He  and  Mr.  Phillips  are  together  about  all  the 
time.  They're  great  friends,  and  I'm  so  glad,  because  if 
George  should  be  in  any  trouble — about  business  or  any 
thing — a  man  of  Mr.  Phillips'  experience  would  be  a  won 
derful  friend  to  have." 

"What  makes  you  think  it  may  be  a  business  trouble?" 
asked  the  captain,  casually. 

Mrs.  Macomber  hesitated.  "Why,"  she  said,  "I  heard 
somethin'  yesterday  that  made  me  think  so.  It  wasn't  meant 
for  me  to  hear,  but  I  just  happened  to.  I  don't  know  as 
I'd  ought  to  say  anything  about  it — I  shouldn't  to  anybody 
but  you,  Sears — yet  it  has  worried  me  a  good  deal.  Mr. 
Phillips  and  George  were  standin'  together  in  the  hall  as  I 
went  by.  They  didn't  see  me,  and  I  heard  George  say, 


296  FAIR    HARBOR 


'Somethin'  must  be  done  about  it/  he  says.  'It  can't  go  on 
for  another  week/  And  Mr.  Phillips  said,  kind  and  com- 
fortin' — nice  as  he  always  is,  but  still  it  did  seem  to  me  a 
little  mite  impatient — 'I  tell  you  it  is  all  right/  he  said. 
'Wait  a  while  and  it  will  be  all  right/  Then  George  said 
somethin'  that  I  didn't  catch,  and  Mr.  Phillips  said,  'But  I 
can't,  I  tell  you.  I'm  in  exactly  the  same  boat/  And 
George  said,  'You've  got  to!  you've  got  to!  If  you  don't 
it'll  be  the  end  of  me/  That  was  what  he  said — 'It  will  be 
the  end  of  me/  And  oh,  Sears,  he  did  sound  so  distressed. 
It  has  troubled  me  ever  since.  What  do  you  suppose  it 
could  be  that  would  be  the  end  of  him  ?" 

Her  brother  shook  his  head.  "Give  it  up,"  he  said. 
"Humph!  .  .  .  And  Egbert  said  he  was  in  the  same  boat, 
did  he  ?  That's  interestin*.  It  must  be  a  pretty  swell  liner ; 
he  wouldn't  be  aboard  anything  else." 

But  Mrs.  Macomber  declined  to  joke.  "You  wouldn't 
laugh,"  she  declared,  "if  you  had  heard  George  talk.  He's 
just  a  boy,  Sears,  a  real  kind-hearted,  well-meanin'  boy,  and 
I  hate  to  think  of  him  as  in  any  more  trouble." 

"Any  more  ?    What  do  you  mean  by  more  ?" 

"Why — why — oh,  well,  everybody  knows  he  and  Elizabeth 
ain't  keepin'  company  any  longer.  And — and " 

"And  everybody  thinks  I  am  to  blame.  Well,  I'm  not, 
Sarah.  Not  intentionally,  anyhow.  And,  if  George  would 
let  me,  I  should  be  glad  to  be  a  friend  of  his.  Not  as  grand 
and  top-lofty  a  friend  as  Admiral  Egbert,  of  course,  but  as 
good  as  my  rank  and  ratin'  in  life  will  let  me  be." 

"Sears,"  reproachfully,  "I  hate  to  hear  you  speak  in  that 
sarcastic  way.  And  I  can't  see  why  you  mistrust  Mr.  Phil 
lips  so." 

"Can't  you?  Well,  I  don't  know  as  I  can,  myself;  but  if 
I  live  long  enough  I  may  find  a  reason.  ...  As  for  Kent 
— well,  I  tell  you,  Sarah :  You  keep  an  eye  on  the  boy.  If 
he  still  seems  worried,  or  more  worried,  and  you  think  it 
advisable,  you  might  give  him  a  message  from  me.  You 
remind  him  that  one  time  he  told  me  if  he  ever  got  into 
real  trouble  he  should  come  to  me  for  help.  You  can  say — 


FAIR    HARBOR  297 


if  you  think  it  advisable — that  I  am  just  as  willin'  to  give 
that  help  now  as  ever  I  was." 

"Oh,  Sears,  do  you  mean  it?  Why,  I  thought — I  was 
afraid  that  you  and  he " 

"That's  all  right.  I  am  the  young  fellow's  friend — if  he 
wants  me  to  be.  And,  although  I'm  a  thousand  sea  miles 
from  guaranteein'  to  be  able  to  help  him,  I'm  willin'  to  try 
my  hardest.  .  .  .  But  there!  the  chances  are  he  won't  lis 
ten  if  you  do  tell  him,  so  use  your  own  judgment  in  the 
matter.  But,  Sarah,  will  you  do  me  a  favor?" 

"Sears!  How  can  you!  As  if  I  wouldn't  do  anything 
for  you!" 

"I  know  you  would.  And  this  isn't  so  very  much,  either. 
I'm  kind  of  interested  in  this  Phillips  man's  dividends  and 
things.  I'd  like  to  know  how  he  makes  his  money.  I  no 
ticed  that  that  newspaper  in  his  room  was  folded  with  the 
stock  price  page  on  top.  Is  he  interested  in  stock  and  such 
things?" 

"Why,  yes,  he  is.  I've  heard  him  and  George  talkin' 
about  what  they  call  the  'market.'  That  means  stocks,  doesn't 
it?" 

"Um-hm,  usually.  Well,  Sarah,  if  he  happens  to  mention 
any  particular  stock  he  owns,  or  anything  like  that,  try  and 
remember  and  let  me  know,  will  you?" 

"Yes,  of  course,  if  you  want  me  to.  But  why,  Sears? 
There's  nothing  wrong  in  a  man  like  Mr.  Phillips  bein'  in 
terested  in  such  things,  is  there?  I  should  think  it  would 
be — well,  sort  of  natural  for  a  person  who  has  been  rich 
as  he  used  to  be  to  keep  up  his  interest." 

"I  presume  likely  it  is." 

"Then  why  do  you  want  to  know  about  it?" 

The  captain  picked  up  his  hat.  "Oh,  for  no  particular 
reason,  maybe,  Sarah,"  he  replied.  "Perhaps  /  shall  be 
rich  sometime — if  I  live  to  be  a  hundred  and  eighty  and  save 
a  dollar  a  day  as  I  go  along — and  then  I  shall  want  to  know 
how  to  invest  my  money.  Let  me  know  if  you  hear  anything 
worth  while,  won't  you,  Sarah  ?" 

"Yes,  Sears.     And  if  I  get  a  chance  I  am  goin'  to  tell 


298  FAIR    HARBOR 


George  what  you  said  about  bein'  his  friend  and  willin'  to 
help  him.  Good-by,  Sears.  I'm  so  glad  you  came  down. 
Come  again  soon,  won't  you  ?  You're  the  only  brother  I've 
got,  you  know." 

Kendrick  drove  the  Foam  Flake  back  to  the  Minot  place, 
reflecting  during  the  journey  upon  what  he  had  seen  and 
heard  while  visiting  his  sister.  It  amounted  to  very  little  in 
the  way  of  tangible  evidence  against  Egbert  Phillips. 
Sporting  prints  and  dashing  photographs  were  interesting 
perhaps,  and  in  a  way  they  illuminated  the  past ;  but  they  did 
not  illumine  the  present,  they  shed  no  light  upon  their  own 
er's  means  of  living,  nor  the  extent  of  those  means.  Egbert 
occupied  the  best  rooms  at  the  Macomber's,  but,  apparently, 
he  paid  for  his  board  and  lodging — yes,  and  his  washing. 
He  might  be  interested  in  stocks,  but  there  was  nothing 
criminal  in  that,  of  itself.  The  Kendrick  campaign  was,  so 
far,  an  utter  failure. 

Another  week  dragged  by  with  no  developments  worth 
while.  Judah,  much  inflated  with  the  importance  of  his 
commission  as  a  member  of  the  Kendrick  secret  service, 
made  voluminous  and  wordy  reports,  but  they  amounted  to 
nothing.  Mr.  Phillips  had  borrowed  five  dollars  of  Caleb 
Snow.  Had  he  paid  the  debt?  Oh,  yes,  he  had  paid  it. 
He  smoked  "consider'ble  many"  cigars,  "real  good  cigars, 
too;  cost  over  ten  cents  a  piece  by  the  box,"  so  he  told 
Thoph  Black.  But,  so  far  as  Black  or  Judah  knew,  he  had 
paid  for  them.  He  owed  a  fair-sized  bill  at  the  livery-stable, 
but  the  stable  owner  "wan't  worried  none."  There  was 
little  of  interest  here.  No  criminal  record,  rather  the  con 
trary. 

Esther  Tidditt  dropped  in  from  time  to  time,  loaded,  as 
Judah  said,  "to  the  guards"  with  Fair  Harbor  gossip.  Cap 
tain  Sears  did  not  encourage  her  visits.  Aside  from  learning 
what  he  could  concerning  the  doings  of  Egbert  Phillips,  he 
was  little  interested  in  petty  squabbles  and  whispers  among 
the  "mariners'  women."  Except  by  Esther  he  was  almost 
entirely  ignored  by  the  inmates.  Elizabeth  he  saw  daily  for 
a  short  time,  but  for  her  sake  he  made  those  times  as  brief 


FAIR   HARBOR  299 


as  he  could.  Her  mother  he  saw  occasionally ;  she  spoke  to 
him  only  when  necessary.  Elvira,  Mrs.  Brackett,  Desire 
Peasly  and  the  rest  gave  him  the  snippiest  of  bows  when 
they  met  and  whispered  and  giggled  behind  his  back. 

It  had  seemed  to  him  that  Elizabeth  looked  more  care 
worn  of  late.  He  did  not  mention  it  to  her,  of  course,  but 
it  troubled  him.  He  speculated  concerning  the  cause  and 
was  inclined,  entirely  without  good  reason,  to  suspect  Eg 
bert,  just  as  he  was  inclined  to  suspect  him  of  being  the 
cause  of  most  unpleasantness.  Something  that  Mrs.  Tidditt 
said  during  one  of  her  evening  "dropping-ins"  supplied  a 
possible  base  for  suspicion  in  this  particular  case. 

"Elizabeth  and  her  mother  has  had  some  sort  of  a  rum 
pus,"  declared  Esther.  "They  ain't  hardly  on  speakin'  terms 
with  one  another  these  days.  That  is,"  she  added,  "Cor 
delia  ain't.  I  guess  likely  Elizabeth  would  be  as  nice  as  she 
always  is  if  her  ma  would  give  her  the  chance.  Cordelia 
goes  around  all  divided  up  between  tears  and  joy,  as  you 
might  say.  When  she's  nigh  her  daughter  she  looks  as  if 
she  was  just  about  ready  to  cry — lee  scuppers  all  awash,  as 
my  husband  used  to  say  when  I  was  in  the  same  condition ; 
which  wan't  often,  for  cryin'  ain't  much  in  my  line.  Yes, 
when  Elizabeth's  lookin'  at  her  she's  right  on  the  ragged 
edge  of  tears.  But  you  let  that  dratted  Eg  heave  in  sight 
with  all  sail  sot  and  signals  flyin'  and  she's  all  smiles  in  a 
minute.  Oh,  what  a  fool  a  fool  woman  can  be  when  she 
sets  out  to  be !  ...  Hey  ?  What  did  you  say,  Cap'n  Ken- 
drick?" 

"I  didn't  say  anything,  Esther." 

"Oh,  didn't  you?  I  thought  you  did.  There's  one  ray  of 
comfort  over  acrost,  anyhow.  Elizabeth  ain't  in  love  with 
old  Eggie,  even  if  her  mother  is.  She  and  he  have  had  a 
run-in  or  I  miss  my  guess." 

The  captain  was  interested  now.  "What  makes  you  think 
that?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  from  things  I've  seen.  He's  all  soft  soap  and  sweet 
ile  to  her  same  as  he  always  was — little  more  so,  if  anything 
— but  she  is  cold  as  the  bottom  of  a  well  to  him.  No,  they've 


300  FAIR    HARBOR 


had  a  row  and  of  course  the  reason's  plain  enough.  That 
night  over  here  when  she  called  me  a  spy  and  a  lot  more 
names  I  told  her  a  few  things  for  her  own  good.  I  told 
her  she  had  better  think  over  what  I  said  about  that  Eg's 
schemin'  to  get  her  mother  and  the  five  thousand  dollars.  I 
told  her  to  think  that  over  and  think  Eg  over,  too.  She  was 
terribly  high  and  mighty  then,  but  I  bet  you  she's  done  some 
thinkin'  since.  Yes,  and  come  to  the  conclusion  that,  spy 
or  no  spy,  I  was  tellin'  the  plain  truth.  .  .  .  Hey,  Cap'n 
Kendrick?" 

"Eh  ?  .  .  .     Oh,  yes,  yes ;  I  shouldn't  wonder,  Esther." 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,  neither.  But  it  won't  have  no  effect 
on  Cordelia.  She'd  put  her  best  Sunday  bonnet  on  the 
ground  and  let  that  Eg  dance  the  grand  fandango  on  it  if 
he  asked  her  to.  Poor,  soft-headed  critter." 

"Yes,  yes.  .  .  .  Humph!  Any  other  news?  How  is 
Elvira?" 

"Oh,  she's  full  of  spite  and  jealousy  as  a  yeast  jug  is  full  of 
pop.  She  pretends  that  the  idea  of  anything  serious  be 
tween  Cordelia  and  Phillips  is  just  silliness.  Might  as  well 
talk  about  King  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  marryin'  the  woman 
that  done  his  washin' — that's  what  she  pretends  to  believe. 
It's  all  Cordelia  and  not  Eg  at  all,  that's  what  she  says. 
But  she  knows  better,  just  the  same.  She's  got  somethm' 
else  to  think  about  now.  That  aunt  of  hers  over  to  Ostable, 
the  one  that  owns  them  iron  images  she  wanted  the  Harbor 
to  buy — she's  sick,  the  aunt  is.  Elviry's  pretty  worried 
about  her;  she's  the  old  woman's  only  relation." 

Kendrick  had  heard  nothing  further  from  his  sister  in 
the  matter  of  young  Kent  and  his  trouble,  whatever  the 
latter  might  be.  Sears  had  pondered  a  good  deal  concern 
ing  it  and  tried  to  guess  in  what  possible  way  the  boy  could 
be  "in  the  same  boat"  with  Egbert.  There  was  little  use 
in  guessing,  however,  and  he  had  given  up  trying.  And 
another  week  passed,  another  fruitless,  dreary,  hopeless 
week. 

Judah's  lodge  night  came  around  again  and  Mr.  Cahoon, 
after  asking  his  skipper's  permission,  departed  for  the  meet- 


FAIR    HARBOR  301 


ing,  leaving  Sears  Kendrick  alone.  It  was  a  beastly  Novem 
ber  evening,  cold  and  with  a  heavy  rain  beating  against  the 
windows  of  the  Minot  kitchen,  and  a  wind  which  shrieked 
and  howled  about  the  corners  and  gables  of  the  old  house, 
rattled  every  loose  shingle,  and  set  the  dry  bones  of  the 
wisteria  vine  scratching  and  thumping  against  the  walls. 
The  water  was  thrown  in  bucket fuls  against  the  ancient 
panes  and  poured  from  the  sashes  as  if  the  latter  were 
miniature  dams  in  flood  time. 

Sears  sat  by  the  kitchen  stove,  smoking  and  trying  to  read. 
He  could  make  a  success  of  the  smoking,  but  the  attempt  at 
reading  was  a  failure.  It  was  so  much  easier  to  think,  so 
much  easier  to  let  his  thoughts  dwell  upon  his  own  dismal, 
wretched,  discouraging  story  than  to  follow  the  fortunes  of 
Thaddeus  of  Warsaw  through  the  long  succession  of  printed 
pages.  And  he  had  read  Thaddeus's  story  before.  He  knew 
exactly  how  it  would  end.  But  how  would  his  own  story 
end?  He  might  speculate  much,  but  nowhere  in  all  his 
speculations  was  there  a  sign  of  a  happy  ending. 

His  pipe  went  out,  he  tossed  the  book  upon  the  table 
among  the  supper  dishes — Judah  had  been  in  too  great  a 
hurry  to  clear  away — and  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  Then 
he  rose  and  walked — he  could  walk  pretty  well  now,  the 
limp  was  but  slight — to  the  window  and,  lifting  the  shade, 
peered  out. 

He  could  see  nothing,  or  almost  nothing.  The  illumined 
windows  made  yellow  pools  of  light  upon  the  wet  bricks 
below  them,  and  across  the  darkness  above  were  shining 
ribbons  of  rain.  Against  the  black  sky  shapes  of  deeper 
blackness  were  moving  rapidly,  the  bare  thrashing  branches 
of  the  locust  tree.  It  was  a  beastly  night,  so  he  thought 
as  he  looked  out  at  it ;  a  beastly  night  in  a  wretched  world. 

Then,  above  the  noises  of  screeching  wind  and  splashing 
water,  he  heard  other  sounds,  sounds  growing  louder,  ap 
proaching  footsteps.  Some  one  was  coming  up  the  walk 
from  the  road. 

He  thought  of  course  that  it  was  Judah  returning.  He 
could  not  imagine  why  he  should  return,  but  it  was  more 


302  FAIR    HARBOR 


impossible  to  imagine  any  one  else  being  out  and  coming 
to  the  Minot  place  on  such  a  night.  A  figure,  bent  to  the 
storm,  passed  across  the  light  from  the  window.  Captain 
Kendrick  dropped  the  shade  and  strode  through  the  little 
entry  to  the  back  door.  He  threw  it  open. 

"Come  in,  Judah,"  he  ordered.  "Come  in  quick,  before 
we  both  drown." 

But  the  man  who  came  in  was  not  Judah  Cahoon.  He 
was  George  Kent. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE  young  man  plunged  across  the  threshold,  the 
skirts  of  his  dripping  overcoat  flapping  about  his  knees 
and  the  water  pouring  from  the  brim  of  his  hat.  He 
carried  the  ruin  of  what  had  been  an  umbrella  in  his  hand. 
It  had  been  blown  inside  out,  and  was  now  but  a  crumpled 
tangle  of  wet  fabric  and  bent  and  bristling  wire.  He 
stumbled  over  the  sill,  halted,  and  turning,  addressed  the 
man  who  had  opened  the  door. 

"Cap'n,"  he  stammered,  breathlessly,  "I — I — I've  come  to 
see  you.  I — I  know  you  must  think — I  don't  know  what 
you  can  think — but — but " 

Kendrick  interrupted.  He  was  surprised,  but  he  did  not 
permit  his  astonishment  to  loosen  his  grip  on  realities. 

"Go  in  the  other  room,"  he  ordered.  "In  the  kitchen 
there  by  the  fire.  I'll  be  with  you  soon  as  I  shut  this  door. 
Go  on.  Don't  wait !" 

Kent  did  not  seem  to  hear  him. 

"Cap'n,"  he  began,  again,  "I- 

"Do  as  I  tell  you.    Go  in  there  by  the  stove." 

He  seized  his  visitor  by  the  shoulder  and  pushed  him 
out  of  the  entry.  Then  he  closed  and  fastened  the  outer 
door.  This  was  a  matter  of  main  strength,  for  the  gale 
was  fighting  mad.  When  the  latch  clicked  and  the  hook 
dropped  into  the  staple  he,  too,  entered  the  kitchen.  Kent 
had  obeyed  orders  to  the  extent  of  going  over  to  the  stove, 
but  he  had  not  removed  his  hat  or  coat  and  seemed  to  be 
quite  oblivious  of  them  or  the  fire  or  anything  except  the 
words  he  was  trying  to  utter. 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  he  began  again,  "I " 

"Sshh !  Hush !  Take  off  your  things.  Man  alive,  you're 

303 


304  FAIR    HARBOR 


sheddin'  water  like  a  whistlin'  buoy.     Give  me  that  coat. 
And  that  umbrella,  what  there  is  left  of  it.     That's   the 
ticket.     Now  sit  down  in  that  rocker  and  put  your  feet  up 
on  the  hearth.  .  .  .     Whew!     Are  you  wet  through?" 
"No.     No,  I  guess  not.     I " 

"Haven't  got  a  chill,  have  you  ?  Can't  I  get  you  somethin' 
hot  to  drink?  Judah  generally  has  a  bottle  of  some  sort 
of  life-saver  hid  around  in  the  locker  somewhere.  A  hot 
toddy  now  ?  .  .  .  Eh  ?  Well,  all  right,  all  right.  No,  don't 
talk  yet.  Get  warm  first." 

Kent  refused  the  hot  toddy  and  would  have  persisted  in 
talking  at  once  if  his  host  had  permitted.  The  latter  refused 
to  listen,  and  so  the  young  man  sat  silent  in  the  rocking 
chair,  his  soaked  trouser  legs  and  boots  steaming  in  the 
heat  from  the  open  door  of  the  oven,  while  the  captain 
bustled  about,  hanging  the  wet  overcoat  on  a  nail  in  the 
corner,  tossing  the  wrecked  umbrella  behind  the  stove  and 
pretending  not  to  look  at  his  caller. 

He  did  look,  however,  and  what  he  saw  was  interesting 
certainly  and  might  have  been  alarming  had  he  been  a 
person  easily  frightened  or  unduly  apprehensive.  Kent's 
wet  cheeks  had  dried  and  they  were  flushed  now  from  the 
warmth,  but  they  were  haggard,  his  eyes  were  underscored 
with  dark  semicircles,  and  his  hands  as  he  held  them  over  the 
red-hot  stove  lids  were  trembling.  He  looked  almost  as  if 
he  were  sick,  but  a  sick  man  would  scarcely  be  out  of  doors 
in  such  a  storm.  He  had,  apparently,  forgotten  his  desire^ 
to  talk,  and  was  now  silent,  his  gaze  fixed  upon  the  wall 
behind  the  stove. 

Kendrick  quietly  placed  a  chair  beside  him  and  sat  down. 

"Well,  George?"  he  asked. 

Kent  started.  "Oh!"  he  exclaimed.  And  then,  "Oh, 
yes !  Cap'n  Kendrick,  I — I  know  you  must  think  my  coming 
here  is  queer,  after — after " 

He  hesitated.     The  captain  helped  him  on. 

"Not  a  bit,  George,"  he  said.  "Not  a  bit.  I'm  mighty 
glad  to  see  you.  I  told  you  to  come  any  time,  you  remember. 
Well,  you've  come,  haven't  you?  Now  what  is  it?" 


FAIR    HARBOR  305 


Kent's  gaze  left  the  wall  and  turned  toward  his  com 
panion.  "Cap'n  Kendrick,"  he  began,  then  stopped.  "Cap'n 
Kendrick,"  he  repeated,  "I — Mrs.  Macomber  said — she  told 
me  you  said  that — that " 

"All  right,  George,  all  right.  I  told  her  to  remind  you 
that  one  time  you  promised  to  come  to  me  if  you  was  in 
any — er — well,  trouble,  or  if  you  had  anything  on  your  mind. 
I  judge  that's  what  you've  come  for,  isn't  it?" 

Kent  started  violently.  His  feet  slipped  from  the  hearth 
and  struck  the  floor  with  a  thump. 

"How  did  you  know  I  was  in  trouble?"  he  demanded. 
"Who  told  you?  Did  they  tell  you  what " 

"No,  no,  no.  Nobody  told  me  anything  especial.  Sarah 
did  say  you  hadn't  looked  well  lately  and  she  was  afraid 
you  was  worried  about  somethin'.  That's  all.  I've  been 
worried  myself  durin'  my  lifetime  and  I've  generally  found 
it  helped  a  little  to  tell  my  worries  to  somebody  else.  At 
any  rate  it  didn't  do  any  harm.  What's  wrong,  George? 
Nothin'  serious,  I  hope." 

Kent  breathed  heavily.  "Serious!"  he  repeated.  "I — I 
.  .  .  ."  Then  in  a  sudden  outburst:  "Oh,  my  God,  Cap'n 
Kendrick,  I  think  they'll  put  me  in  jail." 

Sears  looked  at  him.  Then,  leaning  forward,  he  laid  a 
hand  on  the  boy's  knee. 

"Nonsense,  George,"  he  exclaimed,  heartily.  "Stuff  and 
nonsense !  They  don't  put  fellows  like  you  in  jail.  You're 
scared,  that's  all.  Tell  me  about  it." 

"But  they  will,  they  will.  You  don't  know  Ed  Stedman. 
He  doesn't  like  me.  He  always  has  had  it  in  for  me.  He's 
prejudiced  Clara  against  me  and  she  hates  me,  too.  They're 
pressing  me  for  the  money  now.  The  last  letter  I  had 
from  them  Stedman  said  he  wouldn't  wait  another  fort 
night.  And  a  week  is  gone  already.  He'll " 

"Hold  on.     Who's  Stedman?" 

"Oh,  I  thought  you  knew.  He's  my  half-sister's  hus 
band  up  in  Springfield.  When  my  aunt  died.  .  .  .  But 
I  told  you  I  was  administrator  of  her  estate.  I  remember 
I  told  you.  That  day  when " 


306  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Yes,  yes,  I  remember ;  that  is,  I  remember  a  little.  Tell 
me  the  whole  of  it.  What's  happened?" 

"Yes — yes,  I  want  to.  I'm  going  to.  Oh,  if  you  can 
help  me  I'll — I'll  never  forget  it.  I'll  do  anything  for 
you,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  I  know  I  shouldn't  have  done  it.  I 
had  no  right  to  take  the  risk.  But  Mr.  Phillips  said — he 
said " 

"Eh?"  Sear's  interruption  this  time  was  quite  unpre 
meditated.  "Phillips?"  he  repeated,  sharply.  "Egbert,  you 
mean?  Oh,  yes.  .  .  .  Humph.  ...  Is  he  mixed  up  in 
this?" 

"Why — why,  yes.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  him  it  wouldn't 
have  happened.  I  don't  mean  that  he  is  to  blame,  exactly. 

I  guess  nobody  is  to  blame  but  myself.  But  when  I  think 

Oh,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  do  you  suppose  you  can  help  me 
out  of  it?  If  you  can,  I " 

Here  followed  another  outburst  of  agonized  entreaty.  The 
boy's  nerves  were  close  to  breaking,  he  was  almost  hysterical. 
Slowly  and  with  the  exercise  of  much  patience  and  tact  the 
captain  drew  from  him  the  details  of  his  trouble.  It  was, 
as  he  told  it,  a  long  and  complicated  story,  but,  boiled  down, 
it  amounted  to  something  like  this: 

Kent  and  Phillips  had  been  very  friendly  for  some  time, 
their  intimacy  beginning  even  before  the  latter  came  to  board 
at  Sarah  Macomber's.  Egbert's  polished  manners,  his  stories 
of  life  abroad,  his  easy  condescending  geniality,  had  from 
the  first  made  a  great  impression  upon  George.  The  latter, 
already  esteeming  himself  above  the  average  of  mentality 
and  enterprise  in  what  he  considered  the  "slow-poke"  town 
of  Bayport,  found  in  the  brilliant  arrival  from  foreign  parts 
the  personification  of  his  ideals,  a  satisfying  specimen  of  that 
much  read  of  genus,  "the  complete  man  of  the  world."  He 
fell  on  his  knees  before  that  specimen  and  worshiped.  Such 
idolatry  could  not  but  have  some  effect,  even  upon  as  blase 
an  idol  as  Mr.  Phillips,  so  the  latter  at  first  tolerated  and 
then  even  encouraged  the  acquaintanceship.  He  began  to 
take  this  young  follower  more  and  more  into  his  confidence, 


FAIR   HARBOR  307 


to  s^eak  with  him  concerning  matters  more  intimate  and 
personal. 

George  soon  gathered  that  Egbert  had  been  much  in  mon 
eyed  circles.  He  spoke  casually  of  the  "market"  and  re 
ferred  to  friends  who  had  made  and  remade  fortunes  in 
stocks,  as  well  as  of  others  whose  horses  had  brought  them 
riches,  or  who  had  brought  off  what  he  called  coups  at  for 
eign  gaming  tables.  The  young  man,  who  had  been  brought 
up  in  a  strict  Puritanical  household,  was  at  first  rather 
shocked  at  the  thought  of  gambling  or  racing,  but  Mr. 
Phillips  treated  his  prejudices  in  a  condescendingly  joking 
way,  and  Kent  gradually  grew  ashamed  of  his  "insularity" 
and  bourgeois  ideas.  Egbert  habitually  read  the  stock  quo 
tations  in  the  Boston  Advertiser  and  the  mails  brought  him 
brokers'  circulars  and  letters.  Kent  was  led  to  infer  that 
he  still  took  a  small  "flyer"  occasionally.  "Nothing  of 
consequence,  my  boy,  nothing  to  get  excited  about ;  haven't 
the  wherewithal  since  our  dear  friend  Knowles  and  his — 
ah — satellites  took  to  drawing  wills  and  that  sort  of  thing. 
But  if  my  friends  in  the  Street  send  me  a  bit  of  judicious 
advice — as  they  do  occasionally,  for  old  times'  sake — why, 
I  try  to  cast  a  few  crumbs  upon  the  waters,  trusting  that 
they  may  be  returned,  in  the  shape  of  a  small  loaf,  after 
not  too  many  days.  Ha,  ha!  Yes.  And  sometimes  they 
do  return — yes,  sometimes  they  do.  Otherwise  how  could 
I  rejoice  in  the  good,  but  sometimes  tiresome,  Mrs.  Ma- 
comber's  luxurious  hospitality?" 

It  seemed  an  easy  way  to  turn  one's  crumbs  into  loaves. 
Kent,  now  the  possessor  of  the  little  legacy  left  him  by  his 
aunt,  wished  that  the  eight  hundred  dollars,  the  amount  of 
that  legacy,  might  be  raised  to  eight  thousand.  He  was 
executor  of  the  small  estate,  which  was  to  be  equally  divided 
between  his  half-sister  and  himself.  There  had  been  a 
little  land  involved,  that  had  been  sold  and  the  money,  most 
of  it,  paid  him.  So  he  had  in  his  possession  about  sixteen 
hundred  dollars,  half  his  and  half  Mrs.  Stedman's.  If  he 
could  do  no  better  than  double  his  own  eight  hundred  it 


30cS  FAIR    HARBOR 


would  not  be  so  bad.    He  wished  that  he  had  friends  in  the 
Street. 

He  hinted  as  much  to  Phillips.  The  latter  was,  as  always, 
generously  kind.  "If  I  get  the  word  of  another  good  thing, 
my  boy,  I  shall  be  glad  to  let  you  in.  Mind,  I  shan't  advise. 
I  shall  take  no  responsibility — one  mustn't  do  that.  I  shall 
only  pass  on  the  good  word  and  tell  you  what  I  intend  doing 
myself."  George,  very  grateful,  felt  that  this  was  indeed 
true  friendship. 

The  chance  at  the  good  thing  came  along  in  due  season. 
The  New  York  brokerage  firm  wrote  Phillips  concerning  it. 
It  appeared  that  there  was  a  certain  railway  stock  named 
Central  Midland  Common.  According  to  the  gossip  on  the 
street,  Central  Midland — called  C.  M.  for  short — was  just 
about  due  for  a  big  rise.  Certain  eminent  financiers  and 
manipulators  were  quietly  buying  and  the  road  was  to  be 
developed  and  exploited.  Only  a  few,  a  select  few,  knew  of 
this  and  so,  obviously,  now  was  the  time  to  get  aboard.  Kent 
asked  questions.  Was  Egbert  going  to  get  aboard?  Egbert 
smilingly  intimated  that  he  was  thinking  of  it,  Would  it 
be  possible  for  him,  Kent,  to  get  aboard  at  the  same  time? 
Well,  it  might  be ;  Egbert  would  think  about  that,  too. 

He  did  think  about  it  and,  as  a  result  of  his  thinking,  he 
and  Kent  bought  C.  M.  Common  together.  Of  course  to 
buy  any  amount  worth  while  would  be  impossible  because  of 
the  small  amount  of  ready  cash  possessed  by  either.  "But," 
said  Phillips,  "I  seldom  buy  outright.  The  latest  quotation 
of  C.  M.  is  at  40,  or  thereabouts.  I  intend  buying  about 
two  hundred  shares.  That  would  be  eight  thousand  dollars 
if  I  paid  cash,  but  of  course  I  can't  do  that.  I  shall  buy 
on  a  ten  per  cent  margin,  putting  up  eight  hundred.  If 
it  goes  up  twenty  points  I  make  two  thousand  dollars.  If 

it  goes  up  fifty  points,  as  they  say  it  will,  why "    And 

so  on. 

It  ended — or  began — by  Phillips  and  Kent  buying,  as  part 
ners,  four  hundred  shares  of  C.  M.  on  a  ten  per  cent  margin. 
George  turned  over  to  Egbert  the  eight  hundred  dollars  in 
cash,  and  Egbert  sent  to  the  brokers  six  hundred  of  those 


FAIR    HARBOR  309 


dollars  and  a  bond,  which  he  had  in  his  possession,  for  one 
thousand  dollars.  Yes,  Kent,  had  seen  the  broker's  receipt. 
Yes,  the  bond  was  a  good  one ;  at  least  the  brokers  were 
perfectly  satisfied.  Where  did  Egbert  get  the  bond?  Kent 
did  not  know.  It  was  one  he  owned,  that  is  all  he  knew 
about  it. 

For  a  week  or  so  after  the  purchase  was  made  C.  M. 
Common  did  continue  to  rise  in  price.  At  one  time  they 
had  a  joint  profit  of  nearly  two  thousand  dollars.  Of 
course  that  seemed  trifling  compared  with  the  thousands 
they  expected,  and  so  they  waited.  Then  the  market  slumped. 
In  two  days  their  profit  had  gone  and  C.  M.  Common  was 
selling  several  points  below  the  figure  at  which  they  pur 
chased.  By  the  end  of  the  fourth  day,  unless  they  wished 
to  be  wiped  out  altogether,  additional  margin — another  ten 
per  cent — must  be  deposited  immediately. 

And  to  George  Kent  this  seemed  an  impossibility  be 
cause  he  had  not  another  eight  hundred,  or  anything  like 
it,  of  his  own. 

Why,  oh,  why,  had  he  been  such  a  fool?  In  his  chagrin, 
disappointment  and  discouragement  he  asked  himself  that 
question  a  great  many  times.  But  when  he  asked  it  of  his 
partner  in  the  deal  that  partner  laughed  at  him.  According 
to  Phillips  he  had  not  been  a  fool  at  all.  The  slump  was 
only  temporary;  the  stock  was  just  as  good  as  it  had  ever 
been ;  all  this  was  but  a  part  of  the  manipulation,  the  in 
siders  were  driving  down  the  price  in  order  to  buy  at  lower 
figures.  And  letters  from  the  brokers  seemed  to  bear  this 
out.  Nevertheless  the  fact  remained  that  more  margin  must 
be  deposited  and  where  was  Kent's  share  of  that  margin 
coming  from? 

The  rest  of  the  story  was  exactly  like  fifty  thousand 
similar  stories.  In  order  to  save  the  eight  hundred  dollars 
of  his  own  George  put  up  as  margin  with  the  New  York 
brokers  the  eight  hundred  dollars  belonging  to  Mrs.  Sted- 
man,  his  half  sister.  Again  he  paid  the  eight  hundred  to 
Phillips,  who  sent  to  New  York  another  one  thousand 
dollar  bond  and  six  hundred  in  cash.  And  C.  M.  Common 


310  FAIR    HARBOR 


continued  to  go  down,  went  down  until  once  more  the  part 
ners  were  in  imminent  danger  of  being  wiped  out.  Then 
it  rose  a  point  or  so,  and  there  the  price  remained.  All  at 
once  every  one  seemed  to  lose  interest  in  the  stock ;  instead 
of  thousands  of  shares  "bought  and  sold  daily,  the  sales 
dropped  to  a  few  odd  lots.  And  instead  of  the  profits  which 
were  to  have  been  theirs  by  this  time,  the  firm  of  Phillips 
and  Kent  owned  together  a  precarious  interest  in  four  hun 
dred  shares  of  Central  Midland  Common  which  if  sold  at 
present  prices  would  return  them  only  a  minimum  of  their 
investment,  practically  nothing  when  brokerage  commissions 
should  be  deducted. 

And  then  Edward  Stedman,  Kent's  brother-in-law,  de 
manded  an  immediate  settlement  of  the  estate.  The  land 
had  been  sold,  the  estate  had  been  settled — he  knew  it — • 
now  he  and  his  wife  wanted  their  share. 

So  that  was  the  situation  which  was  driving  the  young 
fellow  to  desperation.  What  could  he  do?  He  could  not 
satisfy  Stedman  because  he  had  not  eight  hundred  dollars 
and  he  could  not  confess  it,  at  least  not  without  answering 
questions  which  he  did  not  dare  answer.  As  matters  stood 
he  was  a  thief;  he  had  taken  money  which  did  not  belong 
to  him.  He  and  Stedman  had  not  been  friendly  for  a  long 
time.  According  to  George  his  brother-in-law  would  put 
him  in  jail  without  the  slightest  compunction.  And,  even 
if  he  managed — which  he  was  certain  he  could  not — to  avoid 
imprisonment,  there  was  the  disgrace  and  its  effect  upon  his 
future.  Why,  if  the  affair  became  known,  at  the  very  least 
his  career  as  a  lawyer  would  be  ruined.  Who  would  trust 
him  after  this  ?  He  would  have  to  go  away ;  but  where  could 
he  go?  He  had  counted  on  his  little  legacy  to  help  him 

get  a  start,  to — to  help  him  to  all  sorts  of  things.    Now 

Oh,  what  should  he  do  ?  Suicide  seemed  to  be  the  sole  solu 
tion.  He  had  a  good  mind  to  kill  himself.  He  should — 
yes,  he  was  almost  sure  that  he  should  do  that  very  thing. 

It  was  pitiful  and  distressing  enough,  and  Kendrick,  al 
though  he  did  not  take  the  threat  of  self-destruction  very 
seriously — somehow  he  could  scarcely  fancy  George  Kent  in 


FAIR    HARBOR  311 


the  role  of  a  suicide — was  sincerely  sorry  for  the  boy.  He 
did  his  best  to  comfort. 

"There,  there,  George,"  he  said,  "we  won't  talk  about 
killin'  ourselves  yet  awhile.  Time  enough  to  hop  overboard 
when  the  last  gun's  fired,  and  we  haven't  begun  to  take  aim 
yet.  Brace  up,  George.  You'll  get  through  the  breakers 
somehow." 

"But,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  I  can't— I  can't.  I've  got  only  a 
week  or  so  left,  and  I  haven't  got  the  money." 

"Sshh!  Sshh!  Because  you  haven't  got  it  now  doesn't 
mean  you  won't  have  it  before  the  week's  out — not  neces 
sarily  it  doesn't.  .  .  .  Humph!  Let's  take  an  observation 
now,  and  get  our  bearin's,  if  we  can.  You've  talked  this 
over  with  Egbert — with  Phillips,  of  course.  After  all,  he 
was  the  fellow  that  got  you  into  it.  What  does  he  say?" 

It  appeared  that  Mr.  Phillips  said  little  which  was  of  im 
mediate  solace.  He  professed  confidence  unbounded.  C.  M. 
was  a  good  stock,  it  was  going  higher,  all  they  had  to  do 
was  wait  until  it  did. 

"Yes,"  put  in  Sears,  "that's  good  advice,  maybe,  but  it's 
too  much  like  tellin'  a  man  who  can't  swim  to  keep  up  till 
the  tide  goes  out  and  he'll  be  in  shallow  water.  The  trouble 
is  neither  that  man  nor  you  could  keep  afloat  so  long.  Is 
that  all  he  said?  He  understands  your  position,  doesn't  he, 
George?" 

Yes,  Mr.  Phillips  understood,  but  he  could  do  nothing 
to  help.  He  had  no  money  to  lend — had  practically  nothing 
except  the  two  one  thousand  dollar  bonds,  and  those  were 
deposited  as  collateral  with  the  brokers. 

"Urn — ye-es,"  drawled  Kendrick.  "Those  bonds  are  in- 
terestin'  of  themselves.  We'll  come  to  those  pretty  soon. 
But  hasn't  he  got  any  ready  money?  Seems  as  if  he  must 
have  a  little.  Why,  you  paid  him  sixteen  hundred  in  cash 
and,  accordin'  to  your  story,  he  sent  only  twelve  hundred 
along  with  the  bonds.  He  must  have  four  hundred  left,  at 
least.  That  is,  unless  he's  been  heavin'  overboard  more 
'crumbs'  that  you  don't  know  about." 

Kent  knew  nothing  of  his  partner's  resources  beyond  what 


312  FAIR    HARBOR 


the  latter  had  told  him.  And,  at  any  rate,  what  good  would 
four  hundred  be  to  him?  Unless  he  could  raise  eight  hun 
dred  within  the  week 

"Yes,  yes,  yes,  I  know.  But  four  hundred  is  half  of 
eight  hundred  and  seems  to  me  if  I  was  in  his  shoes  and  had 
been  responsible  for  gettin'  you  into  a  clove  hitch  like  this 
I'd  do  what  I  could  to  get  you  out.  And  he  couldn't — or 
wouldn't — do  anything;  eh?" 

"He  can't,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  He  can't.  Don't  you  see, 
he  hasn't  got  it.  He's  poor,  himself.  Of  course  he  came 
here  to  Bayport,  after  his  wife's  death,  thinking  that  he 
owned  the  Fair  Harbor  property  and — and  a  lot  more.  Why, 
he  thought  he  was  rich.  He  didn't  know  that  old  Knowles 
had  used  his  influence  with  Mrs.  Phillips  when  she  was  half 
sick  and  tricked  her  into " 

"Here,  here!"  The  captain's  tone  was  rather  sharp  this 
time.  "Never  mind  that.  Old  Knowles,  as  you  call  him, 
was  a  friend  of  mine.  ...  I  thought  he  was  your  friend, 
too,  George,  for  the  matter  of  that." 

George  was  embarrassed.  "Well,  he  was,"  he  admitted. 
"I  haven't  got  anything  against  him;  in  fact  he  was  very 
good  to  me.  But  that  is  what  Mr.  Phillips  says,  you  know, 
and  everybody — or  about  everybody — seems  to  believe  it. 
At  least  they  are  awfully  sorry  for  Phillips." 

"So  I  judged.  But  about  you,  now.  Do  you  believe  in 
— er — Saint  Egbert  as  much  as  you  did  ?" 

"Why — why,  I  don't  know.  I Of  course  it  seems  al 
most  as  if  he  ought  to  do  something  to  help  me,  but  if  he 
can't  he  can't,  I  suppose." 

"I  suppose  not.  Look  here,  he  won't  tell  anybody  about 
your  scrape,  will  he?" 

The  junior  partner  in  the  firm  of  Phillips  and  Kent  was 
indignant. 

"Of  course  not,"  he  declared.  "He  told  me  he  should  not 
breathe  a  word.  And  he  is  really  very  much  disturbed  about 
it  all.  He  told  me  himself  that  he  felt  almost  guilty.  Mr. 
Phillips  is  a  gentleman." 

"Is  that  so  ?    Must  be  nice  to  be  that  way.    But  tell  me  a 


FAIR    HARBOR  313 


little  more  about  those  bonds,  George.  There  were  two  of 
'em,  you  say,  a  thousand  dollars  each." 

"Yes." 

"And  you  don't  know  what  sort  of  bonds  they  were?" 

His  visitor's  pride  was  touched.  "Why,  of  course  I 
know,"  he  declared.  "What  sort  of  a  business  man  would 
I  be  if  I  didn't  know  that,  for  heaven's  sake?" 

Sears  did  not  answer  the  question.  For  a  moment  it  seemed 
that  he  was  going  to,  but  if  so,  he  changed  his  mind.  How 
ever,  there  was  an  odd  look  in  his  eye  when  he  spoke. 

"Beg  your  pardon,  George,"  he  said.  "I  must  have  mis 
understood  you.  What  bonds  were  they?" 

"They  were  City  of  Boston  bonds.  Seems  to  me  they 
were — er — er — well,  I  forget  just  what — er — issue,  you 
know,  but  that's  what  they  were,  City  of  Boston  bonds." 

"I  see  ...  I  see.  .  .  .  Humph!  Seems  kind  of  odd, 
doesn't  it?" 

"What?" 

"Oh,  nothin'.  Only  Phillips,  accordin'  to  his  tell,  is 
pretty  close  to  poverty.  Yet  he  hung  on  to  those  two  bonds 
all  this  time." 

"Well,  he  had  to  hang  on  to  something,  didn't  he?  And 
he  probably  has  a  little  more ;  if  he  hasn't  what  has  he  been 
living  on?" 

"Yes,  that's  so — that's  so.  Still.  .  .  .  However,  we  won't 
worry  about  that.  Now,  George,  sit  still  a  minute  and  let 
me  think." 

"But,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  do  you  think  there  is  a  chance? 
I'm  almost  crazy.  I — I " 

"Sshh !  shh !  I  guess  likely  we'll  get  you  off  the  rocks 
somehow.  Let  me  think  a  minute  or  two." 

So  Kent  possessed  his  soul  in  such  patience  as  it  could 
muster,  while  the  wind  howled  about  the  old  house,  the 
wistaria  vine  rattled  and  scraped,  the  shutters  groaned  and 
whined,  and  the  rain  dashed  and  poured  and  dripped  outside. 
At  length  the  captain  sat  up  straight  in  his  chair. 

"George,"  he  said,  briskly,  "as  I  see  it,  first  of  all  we  want 
to  find  out  just  how  this  affair  of  yours  stands.  You  write 


3i4  FAIR    HARBOR 


to  those  New  York  brokers  and  get  from  them  a  statement 
of  your  account — yours  and  Egbert's.  Just  what  you've 
bought,  how  much  margin  has  been  put  up,  how  much  is 
left,  about  those  bonds — kind,  ratin',  numbers  and  all  that. 
Ask  'em  to  send  you  that  by  return  mail.  Will  you  ?" 

"Why — why,  yes,  I  suppose  so.  But  I  have  seen  all  that. 
Mr.  Phillips " 

"We  aren't  helpin'  out  Phillips  now.  He  isn't  askin*  help, 
at  least  I  gather  he's  satisfied  to  wait.  You  get  this  state 
ment  on  your  own  hook,  and  don't  tell  him  you're  gettin' 
it.  Will  you?" 

"I'll  write  for  it  to-night." 

"Good !  That'll  get  things  started,  anyhow.  Now  is  there 
anything  else  you  want  to  tell  me?" 

"No — no,  I  guess  not.  But,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  do  you  hon 
estly  think  there  is  a  chance  for  me?" 

For  an  instant  his  companion  lost  patience.  "Don't  ask 
that  again,"  he  ordered.  "There  is  a  chance — yes.  How 
much  of  a  chance  we  can't  tell  yet.  You  go  home  and  stop 
worryin'.  You've  turned  the  wheel  over  to  me,  haven't 
you  ?  Yes ;  well,  then  let  me  do  the  steerin'  for  a  spell." 

Kent  rose  from  his  chair.  He  drew  a  long  breath.  He 
looked  at  the  captain,  who  had  risen  also,  and  it  was  evident 
that  there  was  still  something  on  his  mind.  He  fidgeted, 
hesitated,  and  then  hurried  forth  a  labored  apology. 

"I — I  am  awfully  ashamed  of  myself,  Cap'n  Kendrick," 
he  began. 

"That's  all  right,  George.  We  all  make  mistakes — busi 
ness  mistakes  especially.  If  I  hadn't  made  one,  and  a  bad 
one,  I  might  not  be  stranded  here  in  Judah's  galley  to-night." 

"I  didn't  mean  business.  I  meant  I  was  ashamed  of 
treating  you  as  I  have.  Ever  since  that  time  when — when 
Elizabeth  was  here  and  I  came  over  and — and  said  all  those 
fool  things  to  you,  I — I've  been  ashamed.  I  zvas  a  fool.  I 
am  a  fool  most  of  the  time,  I  guess." 

"Oh,  I  guess  not,  George.  We're  all  taken  with  the  foolish 
disease  once  in  a  while." 

"But  I  was  such  a  fool.    The  idea  of  my  being  jealous  of 


FAIR    HARBOR  315 


you — a  man  pretty  nearly  old  enough  to  be  my  father.  No, 
not  so  old  as  that,  of  course,  but — older.  I  don't  know  what 
ailed  me,  but  whatever  it  was,  I've  paid  for  it.  ...  She 
— she  has  hardly  spoken  to  me  since." 

"I'm  sorry,  George." 

"Yes.  .  .  .  Has  she — has  she  said  anything  about  me 
to  you,  Cap'n  ?" 

"Why — er — no,  George,  not  much.  She  and  I  are  not — 
well,  not  very  confidential,  outside  of  business  matters,  that 
is." 

"No,  I  suppose  not.  Mr.  Phillips  told  me  she  had — well, 
that  she  and  you  were  not — not  as " 

"Yes,  all  right,  all  right,  George;  I  understand.  Outside 
of  Fair  Harbor  managin'  we  don't  talk  of  many  things." 

"No,  that's  what  he  said.  He  seemed  to  think  you  two 
had  had  some  sort  of  quarrel — or  disagreement,  you  know. 
But  I  never  took  much  stock  in  that.  After  all,  why  should 
you  and  she  be  interested  in  the  same  sort  of  things?  She 
isn't  much  older  than  I  am,  about  my  age  really,  and  of 
course  you " 

"Yes,  yes,"  hastily.  "All  right.  .  .  .  Well,  I  guess  your 
coat  is  middlin'  dry,  George.  Here  it  is." 

"Thanks.  But  that  wasn't  all  I  meant  to  say.  You  see, 
Cap'n  Kendrick,  I  did  treat  you  so  badly  and  yet  all  the  time 
I've  had  such  confidence  in  you.  Ever  since  you  gave  me 
that  advice  the  night  of  the  theatricals  I've — well,  somehow 
I've  felt  as  if  a  fellow  could  depend  on  you,  you  know — 
always,  in  spite  of  everything.  Eh,  why,  by  George,  she 
said  that  very  thing  about  you  once,  said  it  to  me.  She  said 
you  were  so  dependable.  Say,  that's  queer,  that  she  and  I 
should  both  think  the  very  same  thing  about  you." 

"Um-m.    Yes,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes.  It  shows,  after  all,  how  closely  alike  our  minds, 
hers  and  mine,  work.  We" — he  hesitated,  reddened,  and 
then  continued,  with  a  fresh  outburst  of  confidence :  "You 
see,  Cap'n,"  he  said,  "I  have  felt  all  the  time  that  this— this 
trouble  between  Elizabeth  and  me,  wasn't  going  to  last.  I 
was  to  blame — at  least,  I  guess  I  probably  was,  and  I  meant 


316  FAIR    HARBOR 


to  go  to  her  and  tell  her  so.  But  I  waited  until — until  I 
had  pulled  off  this  stock  deal.  I  meant  to  go  to  her  with 
two  or  three  thousand  dollars  that  I  had  made  myself,  you 
see,  and — and  ask  her  pardon  and — well,  then  I  hoped  she 
would — would.  .  .  .  You  understand,  don't  you,  Cap'n 
Kendrick?" 

"Why — er — yes,  I  guess  likely,  George,  in  a  way." 

"Yes.  I  wanted  to  show  her  that  I  was  good  for  some 
thing,  and  then — and  then,  maybe  it  would  be  all  right  again. 
You  see?" 

"Surely,  George.    Yes,  yes.  .  .  .     Ready  for  your  coat?" 

Kent  ignored  the  coat.  He  did  not  seem  to  realize  that  his 
companion  was  holding  it.  "Yes,"  he  stammered,  eagerly. 
"I  think  if  I  went  to  her  in  that  way  it  would  be  all  right 
again.  I  was  hasty  and — and  silly  maybe,  but  perhaps  I  had 
some  excuse.  And,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  I'm  sure  she  does — er 
— like  me,  you  know.  I'm  sure  of  it.  ...  But  now — "  as 
reality  came  once  more  crashing  through  his  dream,  "I — 

I Oh,  think  of  me  now !  I  may  be  put  in  prison.  And 

then.  .  .  .  Oh,  but  Cap'n  Kendrick,  that's  why  I  came  to 
you.  I  knew  you'd  stand  by  me,  I  knew  you  would.  I 
treated  you  damnably,  but — but  you  know,  it  Was  on  account 
of  her,  really.  I  knew  you'd  understand  that.  You  won't 
hold  a  grudge  against  me?  You  really  will  help  me?  If 
you  don't " 

Kendrick  seized  his  arm.  "Shut  up,  George,"  he  com 
manded  brusquely.  "Shut  up.  I'll  get  you  out  of  this,  I 
promise  it." 

"You  will?    You  promise?" 

"Yes.  That  is,  I'll  see  that  you  don't  go  to  jail.  If  we 
can't  get  the  eight  hundred  of  your  sister's  from  these  brok 
ers  I'll  get  it  somehow — even  if  I  have  to  borrow  it." 

"Oh,  Great  Scott,  that's  great !  That's  wonderful.  I  can 
hardly  believe  it.  I'll  make  it  up  to  you  somehow,  you  know. 
You're  the  best  man  I  ever  knew.  And — and — if  she  and 
I — that  is,  when  she  and  I  are — are  as  we  used  to  be — well, 
then  I  shall  tell  her  and  she'll  be  as  grateful  as  I  am,  I  know 
she  will." 


FAIR    HARBOR  317 


"All  right,  George,  all  right.  Run  along.  The  rain's 
easin'  up  a  little,  so  now's  your  time.  Don't  forget  to  write 
to  those  brokers.  .  .  .  Good  night." 

"Good  night,  Cap'n.  I  shall  tell  your  sister  how  good 
you've  been  to  me.  She  told  me  to  come  to  you.  Of  course 
she  doesn't  know  why  I  came,  but " 

"No,  and  she  mustn't  know.  Don't  you  tell  her  or  any 
body  else.  Don't  you  do  it." 

"I — why,  I  won't  if  you  say  so,  of  course.     Good  night." 

Kendrick  closed  the  door.  Then  he  came  back  to  his  seat 
before  the  stove.  When  Judah  returned  home  he  found  that 
his  lodger  had  gone  to  the  spare  stateroom,  but  he  could  hear 
his  footsteps  moving  back  and  forth. 

"Ahoy,  there,  Cap'n  Sears!"  hailed  Judah.  "What  you 
doin',  up  and  pacin'  decks  this  time  of  night?  It's  pretty 
nigh  eight  bells,  didn't  you  know  it?" 

The  pacing  ceased.  "Why,  no,  is  it?"  replied  the  cap 
tain's  voice.  "Guess  I'd  better  be  turnin'  in,  hadn't  I  ?  How's 
the  weather  outside?" 

"Fairin'  off  fast.  Rain  stopped  and  it's  clear  as  a  bell 
over  to  the  west'ard.  Clear  day  and  a  fair  wind  to-morrer, 
I  cal'late." 

Kendrick  made  no  further  comment  and  Judah  prepared 
for  bed,  singing  as  he  did  so.  He  sang,  not  a  chantey  this 
time,  but  portions  of  a  revival  hymn  which  he  had  recently 
heard  and  which,  because  of  its  nautical  nature,  had  stuck 
in  his  memory.  The  chorus  commanded  some  one  or  other 
to 

"Pull  for  the  shore,  sailor, 

Pull  for  the  shore. 

Leave  that  poor  old  stranded  wreck 
And  pull  for  the  shore." 

Mr.  Cahoon  sang  the  chorus  over  and  over.  Then  he 
ventured  to  tackle  one  of  the  verses. 

"Light  in  the  darkness,  sailor, 
Day  is  at  hand." 


318  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Judah!"    This  from  the  spare  stateroom. 

"Aye,  aye,  Cap'n  Sears." 

"Better  save  the  rest  of  that  till  the  day  gets  here,  hadn't 
you?" 

"Eh?  Oh,  all  right,  Cap'n.  Just  goin'  to  douse  the  glim 
this  minute.  Good  night." 

Three  days  after  this  interview  in  the  Minot  kitchen 
George  Kent  again  came  to  call.  He  came  after  dark,  of 
course,  and  his  visit  was  brief.  He  had  received  from  the 
New  York  brokers  a  detailed  statement  of  his  and  Phillips' 
joint  account.  The  statement  bore  out  what  he  had  already 
told  Sears.  Four  hundred  shares  of  Central  Midland  Com 
mon  had  been  purchased  at  40.  Against  this  the  partners 
deposited  sixteen  hundred  dollars.  Later  they  had  deposited 
another  sixteen  hundred.  The  New  York  firm  were  as  con 
fident  as  ever  that  the  stock  was  perfectly  good  and  the 
speculation  a  good  one.  They  advised  waiting  and,  if  pos 
sible,  buying  more  at  the  present  low  figure. 

All  this  was  of  little  help.  The  only  information  of  any 
possible  value  was  that  concerning  the  bonds  which  Egbert 
had  contributed  as  his  share  of  the  margin.  Those,  accord 
ing  to  the  brokers,  were  two  "City  of  Boston  4^28,  of  one 
thousand  dollars  each,  numbered  A6 10,3 12  and  A6io,3i3- 

Kent  would  have  stayed  and  talked  for  hours  if  Kendrick 
had  permitted.  He  was  as  nervous  as  ever,  even  more  so, 
because  the  days  were  passing  and  the  time  drawing  near 
when  his  brother-in-law  would  demand  settlement.  The  cap 
tain  comforted  him  as  well  as  he  could,  bade  him  write  his 
sister  or  her  husband  that  he  would  remit  early  in  the  follow 
ing  week,  and  sent  him  home  again  more  hopeful,  but  still 
very  anxious. 

"I  don't  see  how  I'm  going  to  get  the  money,  Cap'n  Ken 
drick,"  he  kept  repeating.  "I  don't  see  how  all  this  helps 
us  a  bit.  I  don't  see " 

Kendrick  interrupted  at  last. 

"You  don't  have  to  see,"  he  declared.  "You've  left  it  to 
me,  now  let  me  see  if  /  can  see.  I  told  you  that,  somehow 
or  other,  I'd  tow  you  into  deep  water.  Well,  give  me  a 


FAIR    HARBOR  319 


chance  to  get  up  steam.  You  write  that  letter  to  your  brother- 
in-law  and  hold  him  off  till  the  middle  of  next  week.  That's 
all  you've  got  to  do.  I'll  do  the  rest." 

So  Kent  had  to  be  satisfied  with  that.  He  departed,  pro 
fessing  over  and  over  again  his  deathless  gratitude.  "If  you 
do  this,  Cap'n  Kendrick,"  he  proclaimed,  "I  never,  never 
will  forget  it.  And  when  I  think  how  I  treated  you  I  can't 
see  why  you  do  it.  I  never  heard  of  such " 

"Sshh !  shhh !"  The  captain  waved  him  to  silence.  "I 
don't  know  why  I  am  doin'  it  exactly,  George,"  he  said. 

"I  do.    You're  doing  it  for  my  sake,  of  course,  and " 

"Sshh !  I  don't  know  as  I  am — not  altogether.  Maybe 
I'm  doin'  it  to  try  and  justify  my  own  judgment  of  human 
nature — mine  and  Judge  Knowles'.  If  that  judgment  isn't 
right  then  I'm  no  more  use  than  a  child  in  arms,  and  I  need 
a  guardian  as  much  as — as " 

"As  I  do,  you  mean,  I  suppose.  Well,  I  do  need  one,  I 
guess.  But  I  don't  understand  what  you  mean  by  your 
judgment  of  human  nature.  Who  have  you  been  judging?'' 

"Never  mind.  Now  go  home.  Judah's  out  again  and 
that's  a  mercy.  I  don't  want  him  or  any  one  else  to  know 
you  come  here  to  see  me." 

George  went,  satisfied  for  the  time,  but  Sears  Kendrick, 
left  face  to  face  with  his  own  thoughts,  knew  that  he  had 
told  the  young  man  but  a  part  of  the  truth.  It  was  not  for 
Kent's  sake  alone  that  he  had  made  the  rash  promise  to  get 
back  eight  hundred  of  the  sixteen  hundred,  or  another  eight 
hundred  to  take  its  place.  Neither  was  it  entirely  because 
he  hoped  to  confirm  his  judgment  in  the  case  of  Egbert 
Phillips.  The  real  reason  lay  deeper  than  that.  Kent  had 
declared  that  he  still  loved  Elizabeth  Berry  and  that  he  had 
reason  to  think  she  returned  that  love.  Perhaps  she  did ;  in 
spite  of  some  things  she  had  said  after  their  quarrel,  it  was 
possible — yes,  probable  that  she  did.  If,  by  saving  her  lover 
from  disgrace,  he  might  insure  her  future  and  her  hap 
piness,  then — then — Sears  would  have  made  rasher  promises 
still  and  have  undertaken  to  carry  them  out. 

The  brokers'  letter  helped  but  little,  if  any.     He  entered 


320  FAIR    HARBOR 


the  names  and  numbers  of  the  bonds  in  his  memorandum 
book.  Those  bonds  still  perplexed  him.  He  could  not  ex 
plain  them,  satisfactorily.  It  might  be  that  Egbert  had  more 
left  from  his  wife's  estate  than  Judge  Knowles  expected  him 
to  have  or  that  Bradley  was  inclined  to  think  he  had.  Lo 
belia's  will  bequeathed  to  her  beloved  husband  "all  stocks, 
bonds,  securities,  etc.,"  remaining.  But  Knowles  had  more 
than  intimated  that  none  remained.  The  pictures  of  the 
horses  and  the  ladies  in  Egbert's  room  at  Sarah  Macomber's 
confirmed  the  captain's  belief  that  the  Phillips  past  had  been 
a  hectic  one.  It  seemed  queer  that,  out  of  the  ruin,  there 
should  have  been  preserved  at  least  two  thousand  dollars  in 
good  American — yes,  City  of  Boston — bonds. 

In  the  back  of  the  Kendrick  head  was  a  theory— or  the 
ghost  of  a  theory — concerning  those  bonds.  He  did  not  like 
to  believe  it,  he  would  not  believe  it  yet,  but  it  was  a  pos 
sibility.  Elizabeth  had  been  bequeathed  twenty  thousand 
dollars.  She  and  Egbert  had  been  close  friends  for  a  time. 
She  had  liked  him,  had  trusted  him.  Of  late,  so  Esther 
Tidditt  said,  that  friendship  had  been  somewhat  strained. 
Was  it  possible  that.  .  .  .  Humph!  Well,  Bradley  might 
know.  He  was  Elizabeth's  guardian,  he  would  know  if  her 
investments  had  been  disturbed. 

Then,  too,  if  worst  came  to  the  worst  and  he  had  to 
raise  the  eight  hundred,  which  he  had  promised  Kent,  by 
borrowing  it,  he  could,  he  thought,  arrange  to  get  from 
Bradley  an  advance  of  that  amount,  or  a  part  of  it,  against 
his  salary  as  manager  of  the  Fair  Harbor. 

So  he  determined,  as  the  next  move,  to  go  to  Orham  and 
visit  the  lawyer.  On  Saturday  morning,  therefore,  he  and 
the  Foam  Flake  once  more  journeyed  along  the  wood  road 
to  Orham, 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE  trip  was  cold  and  long  and  tedious.     The  oaks 
and  birches  were  bare  of  leaves  and  the  lakes  and 
little    ponds    looked    chill    and    forbidding.     Judah's 
prophecy  of  a  clear  day  was  only  "partially  fulfilled,  for  there 
were  great  patches  of  clouds  driving  before  the  wind  and 
when   those   obscured   the   sun   all   creation    looked   dismal 
enough,  especially  to  Kendrick,  who  was  in  the  mood  where 
any  additional  gloom  was  distinctly  superfluous.     But  the 
Foam  Flake  jogged  on  and  at  last  drew  up  beside  the  Brad 
ley  office. 

Another  horse  and  buggy  were  standing  there  and  the 
captain  was  somewhat  surprised  to  recognize  the  outfit  as 
one  belonging  to  the  Bayport  livery  man.  A  gangling  youth 
in  the  latter's  employ  was  on  the  buggy  seat  and  he  recog 
nized  the  Foam  Flake  first  and  his  driver  next. 

"Why,  good  mornin',  Cap'n,"  hailed  the  youth.  "You 
over  here,  too?" 

Sears,  performing  the  purely  perfunctory  task  of  hitching 
the  Foam  Flake  to  a  post,  smiled  grimly. 

"No,  Josiah,"  he  replied.  "I'm  not  here.  I'm  over  in 
South  Harniss  all  this  week.  Where  are  you?" 

"Eh?  .  .  .     Where  be  I?  ...     Say,  what " 

"Yes,  yes,  Josiah,  all  right.  Just  keep  a  weather  eye  on 
this  post,  will  you,  like  a  good  fellow?" 

"On  the  post  ?    On  the  horse,  you  mean  ?" 

"No,  I  mean  on  the  post.  If  you  don't  this — er — camel 
of  mine  will  eat  it.  Thanks.  Do  as  much  for  you  some 
time,  Josiah." 

He  went  into  the  building,  leaving  the  bewildered  Josiah 
in  what  might  be  described  as  a  state  of  mind. 

321 


322  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Is  the  commodore  busy?"  he  asked  of  the  boy  at  the  desk. 

"Yes,  he  is,"  replied  the  boy.  "But  he  won't  be  very  long, 
I  don't  think." 

"Humph!  That's  what  you  don't  think,  eh?  Well,  now 
just  between  us,  what  do  you  think?  .  .  .  Never  mind, 
son,  never  mind,  I'm  satisfied  if  you  are.  I'll  wait.  By  the 
way,  somebody  from  my  home  port  is  in  there  with  him,  I 
judge." 

"Urn — hm.     Miss  Berry,  she's  there." 

"Miss  Berry  !    Elizabeth  Berry  ?  .  .  .     Is  she  there  now  ?" 

The  boy  nodded.  "Um-hm,"  he  declared,  "she's  there, 
but  I  guess  they're  'most  done.  I  heard  her  chair  scrape  a 
minute  or  two  ago,  so  I  think  she's  comin'  right  out." 

Kendrick  rose  from  his  own  chair.  "I'll  wait  outside," 
he  said,  and  went  out  to  the  platform  again.  Josiah,  evi 
dently  lonely  and  seeking  conversation,  hailed  him  at  once. 

"Say,  that  old  horse  of  yours  is  a  cribbler,  ain't  he,"  he 
observed.  "He's  took  one  chaw  out  of  that  post  already." 

Sears  paid  no  attention.  He  walked  around  to  the  rear 
of  the  little  building  and,  leaning  against  its  shingled  side, 
waited,  gazing  absently  across  the  fields  to  the  spires  and 
roofs  of  Orham  village. 

He  was  sorry  that  Elizabeth  was  there  just  at  this  time. 
True  they  met  almost  daily  at  the  Fair  Harbor  office,  but 
those  meetings  were  obligatory,  this  was  not.  And  meeting 
her  at  all,  relations  between  them  being  what  they  were, 
was  very  hard  for  him.  Since  George  Kent's  disclosure  of 
his  feelings  and  hopes  those  meetings  were  harder  still. 
Each  one  made  his  task,  that  of  helping  the  boy  toward  the 
realization  of  those  hopes,  so  much  more  difficult.  He  was 
ashamed  of  himself,  but  so  it  was.  No,  in  his  present  frame 
of  mind  he  did  not  want  to  meet  her.  He  would  wait  there, 
out  of  sight,  until  she  had  gone. 

But  he  was  not  allowed  to  do  so.  He  heard  the  office  door 
open,  heard  her  step — he  would  have  recognized  it,  he  be 
lieved,  anyway — upon  the  platform.  He  heard  her  speak 
to  Josiah.  And  then  that  pest  of  an  office  boy  began  shout 
ing  his  name. 


FAIR    HARBOR  323 


"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  yelled  the  boy.  "Cap'n  Kendrick, 
where  are  you?" 

He  did  not  answer,  but  the  other  imbecile,  Josiah,  an 
swered  for  him. 

"There  he  is,  out  alongside  the  buildin',"  volunteered 
Josiah.  "Cap'n  Kendrick,  they  want  ye." 

Then  both  began  shrieking  "Cap'n  Kendrick"  at  the  top 
of  their  voices. 

To  pretend  not  to  hear  would  have  been  too  ridiculous. 
There  was  but  thing  to  do  and  he  did  it. 

"Aye,  aye,"  he  answered,  impatiently.    "I'm  comin' !" 

When  he  reached  the  platform  Elizabeth  was  still  there. 
She  was  surprised  to  see  him,  evidently,  but  there  was  an 
other  expression  on  her  face,  an  expression  which  he  did  not 
understand.  He  bowed  gravely. 

"Good  mornin',"  he  said.  She  returned  his  greeting,  but 
still  she  continued  to  look  at  him  with  that  odd  expression. 

"Mr.  Bradley 's  all  ready  for  you,"  announced  the  office 
boy,  who  was  holding  the  door  open.  Sears'  foot  was  at 
the  threshold  when  Elizabeth  spoke  his  name.  He  turned  to 
her  in  surprise. 

"Yes?"  he  replied. 

For  an  instant  she  was  silent.  Then,  as  if  obeying  an 
uncontrollable  impulse,  she  came  toward  him. 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  said.  "May  I  speak  with  you? 
In  private?  I  won't  keep  you  but  a  moment." 

"Why — why,  yes,  of  course,"  he  stammered.  He  turned 
to  the  office  boy.  "Go  and  tell  Mr.  Bradley  I'll  be  right 
there,"  he  commanded.  The  boy  went. 

Elizabeth  spoke  to  her  charioteer,  who  was  leaning  for 
ward  on  the  buggy  seat,  his  small  eyes  fixed  upon  the  pair 
and  his  large  mouth  open. 

"Drive  over  to  that  corner,  Josiah,"  she  said.  "To  that 
store  there — yes,  that's  it.  And  wait  there  for  me.  I'll  come 
at  once." 

Josiah  reluctantly  drove  away.  Elizabeth  turned  again  to 
Kendrick. 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  began.    "I  shan't  keep  you  long.    I 


324  FAIR    HARBOR 


realize  that  you  must  be  surprised  at  my  asking  to  speak  with 
you — after  everything.  And,  of  course,  I  realize  still  more 
than  you  can't  possibly  wish  to  speak  with  me." 

He  attempted  to  say  something,  to  protest,  but  she  did  not 
give  him  the  chance. 

"No,  don't,  don't,"  she  said,  hurriedly.  "Don't  pretend. 
I  know  how  you  feel,  of  course.  But  I  have  been  wanting 
to  tell  you  this  for  a  long  time.  I  hadn't  the  courage,  or 
I  was  too  much  ashamed,  or  something.  And  this  is  a 
strange  place  to  say  it — and  time.  But  when  I  saw  you  just 
now  I — I  felt  as  if  I  must  say  it.  I  couldn't  wait  another 
minute.  Cap'n  Kendrick,  I  want  to  beg  your  pardon." 

To  add  to  his  amazement  and  embarrassed  distress  he 
saw  that  she  was  very  close  to  tears. 

"Why — why — "  he  stammered. 

"Don't  say  anything.  There  isn't  anything  for  you  to 
say.  I  don't  ask  you  to  forgive  me — you  couldn't,  of  course. 
But  I — I  just  had  to  tell  you  that  I  am  so  ashamed  of  my 
self,  of  my  misjudging  you,  and  the  things  I  said  to  you.  I 
know  that  you  were  right  and  I  was  all  wrong." 

"Why — why,  here,  hold  on !"  he  broke  in.  "I  don't  under 
stand." 

"Of  course  you  don't.  And  I  can't  explain.  Probably  I 
never  can  and  you  mustn't  ask  me  to.  But — but — I  had  to 
say  this.  I  had  to  beg  your  pardon  and  tell  you  how 
ashamed  I  am.  .  .  .  That's  all.  .  .  .  Thank  you." 

She  turned  and  almost  ran  from  the  platform,  down  the 
steps  and  across  the  street  to  the  waiting  buggy.  Sears 
Kendrick  stared  after  her,  stared  until  that  buggy  disap 
peared  around  the  bend  in  the  road.  Then  he  breathed 
heavily,  straightened  his  cap,  slowly  shook  his  head,  and 
entered  the  lawyer's  office.  He  was  still  in  a  sort  of  trance 
when  he  sat  down  in  the  chair  in  the  inner  room  and  heard 
Bradley  bid  him  good  morning.  He  returned  the  good 
morning,  but  he  heard,  or  understood,  very  little  of  what  the 
lawyer  said  immediately  afterward.  When  he  did  begin 
vaguely  to  comprehend  he  found  the  latter  was  speaking 
of  Elizabeth  Berry. 


FAIR    HARBOR  325 


"I  wish  I  knew  what  her  trouble  is,"  Bradley  was  saying. 
"She  won't  tell  me,  won't  even  admit  that  there  is  any  trou 
ble,  but  that  doesn't  need  telling.  The  last  half  dozen  times 
I  have  seen  her  she  has  seemed  and  looked  worried  and 
absent-minded.  And  this  morning  she  drove  way  over  here 
to  ask  me  some  almost  childish  questions  about  her  invest 
ments,  the  money  the  judge  left  her.  Wanted  to  know  if 
it  was  safe,  or  something  like  that.  She  didn't  admit  that 
was  it,  exactly,  but  that  was  as  near  as  I  could  get  to  what 
she  was  driving  at.  Do  you  know  what's  troubling  her, 
Kendrick?" 

Sears  shook  his  head.  "No-o,"  he  replied.  "I've  heard — 
but  no,  I  don't  know.  She  wanted  to  be  sure  her  money 
was  safe,  you  say?" 

"Why,  not  safely  invested,  I  don't  think  that  was  it.  She 
seemed  to  want  to  know  what  I'd  done  with  the  bonds 
themselves  and  the  other  securities  of  hers.  I  told  her  they 
were  in  the  deposit  vaults  over  at  the  Bayport  bank ;  that  is, 
some  of  them  were  there  and  some  of  them  were  in  the 
bank  at  Harniss.  Then  she  asked  if  any  one  could  get 
them,  anybody  except  she  or  I.  Of  course  I  told  her  no, 
and  not  even  I  without  an  order  from  her.  She  seemed  a 
little  relieved,  I  thought,  but  when  /  asked  questions  she 
shut  up  like  a  quahaug.  But  that  seemed  a  silly  errand 
to  come  away  over  here  on.  Don't  you  think  so,  Cap'n? 
.  .  .  Eh?  What's  the  matter?  What  are  you  looking  at 
me  like  that  for  ?" 

The  captain  wa-s  looking  at  him,  was  looking  with  an 
expression  of  intense  and  eager  interest.  He  did  not  answer 
Bradley's  question,  but  asked  one,  himself. 

"Did  she  ask  anything  more  about — well,  about  her 
bonds?"  he  demanded.  "Think  now;  I'll  tell  you  why  by 
and  by." 

The  lawyer  considered.  "No-o,"  he  said.  "Nothing  of 
importance,  surely.  She  asked — she  seemed  to  want  to  know 
particularly  if  it  was  possible  for  any  one  except  the  owner 
or  a  duly  accredited  representative  to  get  at  securities  in 
the  vaults  of  those  banks.  That  seemed  to  be  the  informa- 


326  FAIR    HARBOR 


tion  she  was  after.  .  .  .  Now  what  have  you  got  up  your 
sleeve?" 

"Nothin' — nothing  I  guess.  Or  somethin',  maybe ;  I  don't 
know.  Bradley,  would  you  mind  tellin'  me  this  much :  Of 
course  I'm  not  Elizabeth's  trustee  any  more,  but  would  it  be 
out  of  the  way  if  you  told  me  whether  or  not  you  reinvested 
any  of  her  twenty  thousand  in  City  of  Boston  bonds  ?  City 
of  Boston  4*/2S ;  say?" 

Bradley  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  Then  from  a 
pigeon  hole  in  his  desk  he  took  a  packet  of  papers  and  se 
lected  one. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  gravely.  "I  put  ten  thousand  of  her 
money  in  those  very  bonds.  My  brokers  up  in  Boston  rec 
ommended  them  strongly  as  being  a  safe  and  good  invest 
ment.  .  .  .  And  now  perhaps  you'll  tell  us  why  you  asked 
about  that  ?" 

Sears'  brows  drew  together.  Here  was  his  vague  theory 
on  the  way,  at  least,  to  confirmation. 

"You  tell  me  somethin'  more  first,"  he  said.  "  Tisn't 
likely  you've  got  the  numbers  of  those  bonds  on  that  piece  of 
paper,  is  it?" 

"Likely  enough.  I've  got  the  numbers  and  the  price  I  paid 
for  'em.  Why?" 

Kendrick  took  his  memorandum  book  from  his  pocket. 
"Were  two  of  those  numbers  A6io,3i2  and  A6io,3i3?"  he 
asked. 

Bradley  consulted  his  slip  of  paper.  "No,"  he  replied. 
"Nothing  like  it." 

"Eh?     You're  sure?" 

"Of  course  I'm  sure.  Say,  what  sort  of  a  trustee  do  you 
think  I  am?" 

Sears  did  not  answer.  If  the  lawyer  was  sure,  then  his 
"theory,"  instead  of  being  confirmed,  was  smashed  flat. 

"Humph!"  he  grunted,  after  a  moment.  "Do  you  mind 
my  lookin'  at  that  paper  of  yours?" 

Bradley  pushed  the  slip  across  the  desk.  The  captain 
looked  at  it  carefully.  "Humph!"  he  said  again.  "You're 
right.  And  those  are  five  hundred  dollar  bonds,  all  of  'em. 


FAIR    HARBOR  327 


Well,  that  settles  that.  And  now  it's  all  fog  again.  .  .  . 
Humph  !  In  a  way  I'm  glad — but Pshaw  !" 

"Yes.  And  now  maybe  you'll  tell  me  what  you're  after? 
Don't  you  think  it's  pretty  nearly  time?" 

"Why,  perhaps,  but  I'm  afraid  that's  what  I  can't  tell 
— you  or  anybody  else.  .  .  .  Bradley,  just  one  more  thing. 
Do  you  happen  to  know  whether  there  was  any  of  those 
Boston  bonds  in  Lobelia  Phillips'  estate?  That  is,  did  any 
of  'em  come  to  her  husband  from  her?" 

The  lawyer's  answer  was  emphatic  enough. 

"Yes,  I  do  know,"  he  said.  "There  wasn't  any.  Those 
bonds  are  a  brand  new  issue.  They  have  been  put  out  since 
her  death." 

Here  was  another  gun  spiked.  Kendrick  whistled.  Brad 
ley  regarded  him  keenly. 

"Cap'n,"  he  demanded,  "are  you  on  the  trail  of  that  Eg 
Phillips?  Do  you  really  think  you've  got  anything  on  him? 
Because  if  you  have  and  you  don't  let  me  into  the  game 
I'll  never  forgive  you.  Of  all  the  slick,  smooth,  stuck-up 
nothings  that Say,  have  you?" 

Kendrick  shook  his  head.  "I'm  afraid  not,  Squire,"  he 
observed.  "And,  at  any  rate,  I  couldn't  tell  you,  if  I  had. 
.  .  .  Eh?  And  noiv  what?" 

For  the  lawyer  had  suddenly  struck  the  desk  a  blow  with 
his  hand.  He  was  fumbling  in  another  pigeon-hole  and  ex 
tracting  therefrom  another  packet  of  papers. 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  he  said,  "I  know  where  there  are — 
or  were,  anyhow — more  of  those  Boston  4^28." 

"Eh?    You  do?" 

"Yes.  And  they  were  thousand  dollar  bonds,  too.  .  .  . 
Yes,  and.  .  .  .  Give  me  those  numbers  again." 

Sears  gave  them.     Bradley  grinned,  triumphantly. 

"Here  you  are,"  he  exclaimed.  "Five  one  thousand  dollar 
City  of  Boston  4^s,  bought  at  so  and  so  much,  on  such 
and  such  a  date,  numbered  A6io,3O9  to  A6io,3i3  inclusive. 
Cap'n  Sears,  those  bonds  are — or  were,  the  last  I  knew — 
in  the  vault  of  the  Bayport  National  Bank." 


328  FAIR    HARBOR 


Kendrick  rose  to  his  feet.  "You  don't  tell  me !"  he  cried. 
"Who  put  'em  there?" 

"I  put  'em  there.  And  I  bought  'em.  But  they  don't 
belong  to  me.  There  was  somebody  else  had  money  left  to 
them,  and  I,  on  request,  invested  it  for  the  owner.  Now 
you  can  guess,  can't  you?" 

Cap'n  Sears  sat  down  heavily.  "Cordelia?"  he  exclaimed. 
"Cordelia  Berry,  of  course!  .  .  .  Bradley,  what  an  ever- 
lastin'  fool  I  was  not  to  guess  it  in  the  first  place !  There's 
the  answer  I've  been  hunting  for." 

But,  as  he  pondered  over  it  during  the  long  drive  home 
he  realized  that,  after  all,  it  was  not  by  any  means  a  com 
pletely  satisfying  answer.  True  it  confirmed  his  previous 
belief  that  the  bonds  which  Phillips  had  deposited  with  the 
New  York  brokers  were  not  a  part  of  the  residue  of  his 
wife's  estate.  He  had  obtained  them  from  Cordelia  Berry. 
But  the  question  as  to  how  and  why  he  had  obtained  them 
still" remained.  Did  he  get  them  by  fraud?  Did  she  lend 
them  to  him?  If  she  lent  them  was  it  a  loan  without  re 
strictions  ?  Did  she  know  what  he  meant  to  do  with  them ; 
that  is,  was  Cordelia  a  silent  partner  in  Egbert's  stock  spec 
ulations?  Or,  and  this  was  by  no  means  impossible  consid 
ering  her  infatuation,  had  she  given  them  to  him  outright? 

Unless  there  was  an  element  of  fraud  or  false  pretense 
in  the  transference  of  those  bonds,  the  mere  knowledge  of 
whence  they  came  was  not  likely  to  help  in  regaining  George 
Kent's  sixteen  hundred  dollars.  For  the  matter  of  that, 
even  if  they  had  been  obtained  by  fraud,  if  they  were  not 
Phillips'  property,  but  Cordelia's,  still  the  return  of  Kent's 
money  might  be  just  as  impossible  provided  Phillips  had 
nothing  of  his  own  to  levy  upon.  He — Kendrick— might 
compel  the  brokers  to  return  Mrs.  Berry's  City  of  Boston 
4^/28  to  their  rightful  owner,  but  how  would  that  help 
Kent? 

Well,  never  mind  that  now.  If  the  worst  came  to  the 
worst  he  could  still  borrow  the  eight  hundred  which  would 
save  George  from  public  disgrace.  And  the  fact  remained 


FAIR    HARBOR  329 


that  his  campaign  against  the  redoubtable  Egbert  had  made, 
for  the  first  time,  a  forward  movement,  however  slight. 

His  thoughts  turned  to  Elizabeth.  The  causes  of  her 
worry  and  trouble  were  plain  enough  now.  Esther  Tidditt 
had  declared  that  she  and  Phillips  were  by  no  means  as 
friendly  as  they  had  been.  Of  course  not.  She,  too,  had 
been  forced  to  realize  what  almost  every  one  else  had  seen 
before,  the  influence  which  the  fellow  had  obtained  over  her 
mother.  Her  visit  to  Bradley  and  her  questions  concerning 
the  safety  of  securities  in  the  bank's  vaults  were  almost 
proof  positive  that  she  knew  Egbert  had  those  bonds  and 
perhaps  feared  he  might  get  the  others.  He  should  not  get 
them  if  Sears  Kendrick  could  help  it.  She  had  asked  his 
pardon,  she  had  confessed  that  he  was  right  and  that  she 
had  been  wrong.  She  believed  in  him  again.  Well,  in  re 
turn  he  would  fight  his  battle — and  hers — and  George's — 
harder  than  ever.  The  fight  had  been  worth  while  of  itself, 
now  it  was  more  than  ever  a  fight  for  her  happiness.  And 
Egbert — by  the  living  jingo,  Egbert  was  in  for  a  licking. 

So,  to  the  mild  astonishment  of  the  placid  Foam  Flake, 
who  had  been  meandering  on  in  a  sort  of  walking  doze, 
Captain  Kendrick  tugged  briskly  at  the  reins  and  broke  out 
in  song,  the  hymn  which  Judah  Cahoon  had  sung  a  few 
nights  before: 

"Light  in  the  darkness,  sailor, 
Day  is  at  hand." 

Judah  himself  was  singing  when  his  lodger  entered  the 
kitchen,  but  his  was  no  joyful  ditty.  It  was  a  dirge,  which 
he  was  intoning  as  he  bent  over  the  cookstove.  A  slow  and 
solemn  and  mournful  wail  dealing  with  death  and  burial  of 
one  "Old  Storm  Along,"  whoever  he  may  have  been. 

"  'Old  Storm  Along  is  dead  and  gone 

To  my  way,  oh,  Storm  Along. 
Old  Storm  Along  is  dead  and  gone 

Ay — ay — ay,  Mister  Storm  A-long. 


330  FAIR    HARBOR 


"  'When  Stormy  died  I  dug  his  grave 

To  my  way,  oh,  Storm  Along, 
I  dug  his  grave  with  a  silver  spade. 

Ay — ay — ay,  Mister  Storm  A-long. 

"  'I  hove  him  up  with  an  iron  crane, 

To  my  way,  oh,  Storm  Along, 
And  lowered  him  down  with  '  " 

Kendrick  broke  in  upon  the  flow  of  misery. 

"Sshh!  All  hands  to  the  pumps!"  he  shouted.  "Heavens, 
what  a  wail !  Sounds  like  the  groans  of  the  dyin'.  Didn't 
your  breakfast  set  well,  Judah?" 

Judah  turned,  looked  at  him,  and  grinned  sheepishly.  "  'Tis 
kind  of  a  lonesome  song,  ain't  it?"  he  admitted.  "Still  we 
used  to  sing  it  consider'ble  aboard  ship.  Don't  you  know  we 
did,  Cap'n?" 

The  captain  grunted.  "Maybe  so,"  he  observed,  "but  it's 
one  of  the  things  that  would  keep  the  average  man  from 
going  to  sea.  What's  the  news  since  I've  been  gone — any 
thing?" 

Judah  nodded.  "Um-hm,"  he  said.  "I  cal'late  'twas  the 
news  that  set  me  goin'  about  old  Storm  Along.  Esther 
Tidditt's  been  over  here  half  the  forenoon,  seemed  so,  tellin' 
about  Elviry  Snowden's  aunt  over  to  Ostable.  She's  dead, 
the  old  woman  is,  and  she  died  slow  and  agonizin',  'cordin' 
to  Esther.  Elviry  was  all  struck  of  a  heap  about  it.  And 
now  she's  gone." 

"Gone!     Elvira?    Dead,  you  mean?" 

"Hey?  No,  no!  The  aunt's  dead,  but  Elviry  ain't. 
She's  gone  over  to  Ostable  to  stay  till  after  the  funeral. 
She's  about  the  only  relation  to  the  remains  there  is  left,  so 
Esther  tells  me.  There  was  a  reg'lar  young  typhoon  over 
to  the  Harbor  when  the  news  struck.  Twas  too  late  for 
the  up  train  so  they  had  to  hire  a  horse  and  team  and  then 
somebody  had  to  be  got  to  pilot  it,  'cause  Elviry  wouldn't 
no  more  undertake  to  drive  a  horse  than  I  would  to  eat  one. 


FAIR    HARBOR  331 


And  the  trouble  was  that  the  livery  stable  boy — that  Josiah 
Ellis — was  off  drivin'  somebody  else  somewheres." 

"Yes,  I  saw  him." 

"Hey?    You  did?    Where?    Who  was  he  drivin'?" 

"Never  mind  that.     Heave  ahead  with  your  yarn." 

"Well,  the  next  thing  they  done  was  to  come  cruisin'  over 
here  to  see  if  7  wouldn't  take  the  job.  Hoppin',  creepin', 
jumpin'  Henry !  I  shut  clown  on  that  notion  almost  afore 
they  got  their  hatches  open  to  tell  me  about  it.  Suppose 
likely  I'd  set  in  a  buggy  alongside  of  Elviry  Snowden  and 
listen  to  her  clack  from  here  to  Ostable?  Not  by  a  two- 
gallon  jugful !  Creepin' !  She'd  have  another  corpse  on  her 
hands  time  we  got  there.  So  I  said  I  was  sick." 

"Sick !  Ha,  ha !  You're  a  healthy  lookin'  sick  man, 
Judah." 

"Um-hm.  Mine  must  be  one  of  them  kind  of  diseases 
that  don't  show  on  the  outside.  But  I  was  sick  then,  all 
right — at  the  very  notion.  And,  Cap'n  Sears,  who  do  you 
cal'late  finally  did  invite  himself  to  drive  that  Snowden 
woman  to  Ostable?  You'll  never  guess  in  this  world." 

"Well,  I  don't  intend  to  wait  until  the  next  world  to  find 
out;  so  you'll  have  to  tell  me,  Judah.  Who  was  it?" 

"Old  Henfruit." 

"Who?" 

"Old  Henfruit,  that's  what  I  call  him.     That  Eg  thing." 

"What?    Phillips?" 

"Yus.    That's  the  feller." 

"But  why  should  he  do  it?" 

"Oh,  just  to  show  off  how  polite  and  obligin'  he  is,  I 
presume  likely.  Elviry  she  was  snifHin'  around  and  swab- 
bin'  her  deadlights  with  her  handkercher  and  heavin'  over 
board  lamentations  about  her  poor  dear  Aunt  So-and-so 
lay  in'  all  alone  over  there  and  she  couldn't  get  to  her — as  if 
'twould  make  any  difference  to  a  dead  person  whether  she 
got  to  'em  or  not,  and  anyhow  I'd  want  to  be  dead  afore 

Elviry  Snowden  got  to  me — and Oh,  yes,  well,  pretty 

soon  here  comes  Eg,  beaver  hat  and  mustache  and  all,  purrin' 
and  wantin'  to  know  what  was  the  matter.  And,  of  course, 


332  FAIR    HARBOR 


all  hands  of  'em  started  to  tell  him,  'specially  that  Aurora 
Chase,  who  is  so  everlastin'  deaf  she  hadn't  heard  the  yarn 
more'n  half  straight  and  wan't  sure  yet  whether  'twas  a 
funeral  or  a  fire.  And  so " 

"There,  there,  Judah!  Get  back  on  the  course.  So  Eg 
bert  drove  Elvira  over  to  Ostable,  did  he?" 

"Sartin  sure.  When  Elviry  saw  him  she  kind  of  flew  at 
him  same  as  a  chicken  flies  to  the  old  hen.  And  he  kind  of 
spread  out  his  wings,  as  you  might  say,  and  comforted  her 
and,  next  thing  you  know,  he'd  offered  to  be  pilot  and  she 
and  him  had  started  on  the  trip.  So  that's  the  news.  .  .  . 
Esther  said  'twas  good  as  a  town  hall  to  see  Cordelia  Berry 
when  them  two  went  away  together.  You  see,  Cordelia  is 
so  dreadful  gone  on  that  Eg  man  that  she  can't  bear  to  see 
another  female  within  hailin'  distance  of  him.  Been  just 
the  same  if  'twas  old  Northern  Lights  Chase  he'd  gone  with. 
Haw,  haw!" 

The  Fair  Harbor  was  still  buzzing  with  the  news  of  Miss 
Snowden's  bereavement  when  Kendrick  visited  there  next 
day.  The  funeral  was  to  take  place  the  day  after  that  and 
Mrs.  Brackett  was  going  and  so  was  Aurora.  As  Miss 
Peasley  and  some  of  the  others  would  have  liked  to  go,  but 
could  not  afford  the  railway  fare,  there  was  some  jealousy 
manifest  and  a  few  ill-natured  remarks  made  in  the  cap 
tain's  hearing.  Elvira,  it  seemed,  had  sent  for  her  trunk, 
as  she  was  to  remain  in  Ostable  for  a  week  or  two  at  least. 

The  captain  and  Elizabeth  had  their  customary  confer 
ence  in  the  office  concerning  the  Harbor's  bills  and  finances. 
Kendrick's  greeting  was  a  trifle  embarrassed — recollection 
of  the  interview  at  Orham  was  fresh  in  his  mind.  Elizabeth 
colored  slightly  when  they  met,  but  she  did  not  mention  that 
interview  and,  although  pleasant  and  kind,  kept  the  conver 
sation  strictly  confined  to  business  matters. 

That  afternoon  Sears  encountered  Egbert  for  the  first 
time  in  a  week  or  so.  The  captain  was  on  his  way  to  the 
barn  at  the  rear  of  the  Harbor  grounds.  He  was  about  to 
turn  the  bend  in  the  path,  the  bend  which  he  had  rounded 
on  the  day  of  his  first  excursion  in  those  grounds,  and  which 


FAIR   HARBOR  333 


had  afforded  him  the  vision  of  Miss  Snowden  and  Mrs. 
Chase  framed  in  the  ivy-draped  window  of  The  Eyrie.  As 
he  passed  the  clump  of  lilacs,  now  bare  and  scrawny,  he 
came  suddenly  upon  Phillips.  The  latter  was  standing  there, 
deep  in  conversation  with  Mrs.  Berry.  Theirs  should,  it 
would  seem,  have  been  a  pleasant  conversation,  but  neither 
looked  happy;  in  fact,  Cordelia  looked  as  if  she  had  been 
crying. 

Sears  raised  his  cap  and  Egbert  lifted  the  tall  hat  with 
the  flourish  all  his  own.  Cordelia  did  not  bow  nor  even 
nod.  Kendrick,  as  he  walked  on  toward  the  barn,  was  in 
clined  to  believe  he  could  guess  the  cause  of  Mrs.  Berry's 
distress  and  her  companion's  annoyance;  he  believed  that 
City  of  Boston  4^28  might  be  the  subject  of  their  talk. 
If  so,  then  perhaps  those  bonds  had  come  into  the  gentle 
man's  possession  in  a  manner  not  strictly  within  the  law. 
Or,  at  all  events,  the  lady  might  not  know  what  had  become 
of  them  and  be  requesting  their  return.  He  certainly  hoped 
that  such  was  the  case.  It  was  the  one  thing  he  yearned  to 
find  out  before  making  the  next  strategic  advance  in  his  and 
Egbert's  private  war. 

But  a  note  from  Bradley  which  he  received  next  day 
helped  him  not  at  all.  It  was  a  distinct  disappointment. 
Bradley  had,  at  his  request,  made  some  inquiries  at  the  Bay- 
port  bank.  The  lawyer  was  a  director  in  that  institution 
and  he  could  obtain  information  without  arousing  undue 
curiosity  or  answering  troublesome  questions.  The  two  one 
thousand  dollar  bonds  had  been  removed  from  the  vaults 
by  Cordelia  Berry  herself.  She  had  come  alone,  and  on 
two  occasions,  taking  one  bond  at  each  visit.  She  did  not 
state  why  she  wanted  them  and  the  bank  authorities  had 
not  considered  it  their  business  to  ask. 

So  that  avenue  of  hope  was  closed.  Egbert  had  not  taken 
the  bonds,  and  how  they  came  into  his  possession  was  still 
as  great  a  puzzle  as  ever.  And  the  time — the  time  was 
growing  so  short.  On  Wednesday  Kent  had  promised  to 
send  his  brother-in-law  eight  hundred  dollars.  It  was  Sat 
urday  when  Bradley's  letter  came.  Each  evening  George 


334  FAIR    HARBOR 


stopped  at  the  Minot  place  to  ask  what  progress  had  been 
made.  The  young  man's  nervousness  was  contagious ;  the 
captain's  own  nerves  became  affected. 

"George,"  he  ordered,  at  last,  "don't  ask  me  another  ques 
tion.  I  promised  you  once,  and  now  I  promise  you  again, 
that  by  Wednesday  night  you  shall  have  enough  cash  in 
hand  to  satisfy  your  sister  and  her  husband.  Don't  you 
come  nigh  me  until  then." 

On  Monday,  the  situation  remaining  unchanged,  Sears 
determined  upon  a  desperate  move.  He  would  see  Egbert 
alone  and  have  a  talk  with  him.  He  had,  after  careful  con 
sideration,  decided  what  his  share  in  that  talk  was  to  be. 
It  must  be  two-thirds  "bluff."  He  knew  very  little,  but  he 
intended  to  pretend  to  much  greater  knowledge.  He  might 
trap  his  adversary  into  a  damaging  admission.  He  might 
gain  something  and  he  could  lose  almost  nothing.  The  at 
tack  was  risky,  a  sort  of  forlorn  hope — but  he  would  take 
the  risk. 

That  afternoon  he  drove  down  to  the  Macomber  house. 
There  he  was  confronted  with  another  disappointment. 
Egbert  was  not  there.  Sarah  said  he  had  been  away  almost 
all  day  and  would  not  be  back  until  late  in  the  evening. 

"He's  been  away  consider'ble  the  last  two  or  three  days," 
she  said.  "No,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  where  he's  gone.  He 
told  Joel  somethin'  about  bein'  out  of  town  on  business. 
Joel  sort  of  gathered  'twas  in  Trumet  where  the  business 
was,  but  he  never  told  either  of  us  really.  He  wasn't  here 
for  dinner  yesterday  or  supper  either,  and  not  for  supper 
the  day  before  that." 

"Humph !     Will  he  be  here  to-morrow,  think  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  I  should  think  likely  he  would,  in  the 
forenoon,  anyhow.  He's  almost  always  here  in  the  fore 
noon  ;  he  doesn't  get  up  very  early,  hardly  ever." 

"Oh,  he  doesn't.     How  about  his  breakfast?" 

Mrs.  Macomber  looked  a  bit  guilty. 

"Well,"  she  admitted,  "I  usually  keep  his  breakfast  hot 
for  him,  and — and  he  has  it  in  his  room." 

"You  take  it  in  to  him,  I  suppose?" 


FAIR    HARBOR  335 


"We-11,  he's  always  been  used  to  break fastin'  that  way, 
he  says.  It's  the  way  they  do  over  abroad,  accordin'  to  his 
tell." 

"Oh,  Sarah,  Sarah !"  mused  her  brother.  "To  think  you 
could  slip  so  easy  on  that  sort  of  soft-soap.  Tut,  tut!  I'm 
surprised.  .  .  .  Well,  good-by.  Oh,  by  the  way,  how  about 
his  majesty's  board  bill?  Paid  up  to  date,  is  it?" 

His  sister  looked  even  more  embarrassed,  and,  for  her,  a 
trifle  irritated. 

"He  owes  me  for  three  weeks,  if  you  must  know,"  she 
said,  "but  he'll  pay  it,  same  as  he  always  does." 

"Look  out,  look  out!  Can't  be  too  sure.  .  .  .  There, 
there,  Sarah,  don't  be  cross.  I  won't  torment  you." 

He  laughed  and  Mrs.  Macomber,  after  a  moment,  laughed 
too. 

"You  are  a  tease,  Sears,"  she  declared,  "and  always  was. 
Shall  I  tell  Mr.  Phillips  you  came  to  see  him?" 

"Eh?  No,  indeed  you  shan't.  Don't  you  mention  my 
name  to  him.  He  loves  me  so  much  that  he  might  cry  all 
night  at  the  thought  of  not  bein'  at  home  when  I  called. 
Don't  tell  him  a  word.  I'll  try  again." 

The  next  forenoon  he  did  try  again.  Judah  had  some 
trucking  to  do  in  the  western  part  of  the  village  and  the 
captain  rode  with  him  on  the  seat  of  the  truck  wagon  as 
far  as  the  store.  From  there  he  intended  to  walk  to  his 
sister's,  for  walking,  even  as  long  a  distance  as  a  mile,  was 
no  longer  an  impossibility.  As  he  alighted  by  the  store  plat 
form  Captain  Elkanah  Wingate  came  out  of  the  Bassett 
emporium. 

"Mornin',  Kendrick,"  he  hailed. 

Sears  did  not  share  Bayport's  awe  of  the  prosperous  Elk 
anah.  He  returned  the  greeting  as  casually  as  if  the  latter 
had  been  an  everyday  citizen. 

"Been  spendin'  your  money  on  Eliphalet's  bargains?"  he 
inquired. 

The  great  man  did  not  resent  the  flippancy.  He  seemed 
to  be  in  a  particularly  pleasant  humor. 

"Got  a  little  extra  to  spend  to-day,"  he  declared,  with  a 


336  FAIR    HARBOR 


chuckle.  "Picked  up  twenty  dollars  this  mornin'  that  I  never 
expected  to  see  again." 

"So?    You're  lucky." 

"That's  what  I  thought.  Say,  Kendrick,  have  you  had  any 
— hum — business  dealings  with  that  man  Phillips?  No," 
with  another  chuckle,  "I  suppose  you  haven't.  He  doesn't 
love  you  over  and  above,  I  understand.  My  wife  and  the 
•rest  of  the  women  folks  seem  to  think  he's  first  mate  to 
Saint  Peter,  but,  between  ourselves,  he's  always  been  a  little 
too  much  of  a  walkin'  oil  barrel  to  suit  me.  He  borrowed 
twenty  of  me  a  good  while  ago  and  I'd  about  decided  to 
write  it  down  as  a  dead  loss.  But  an  hour  or  so  ago  he 
ran  afoul  of  me  and,  without  my  saying  a  word,  paid  up 
like  a  man,  every  cent.  Had  a  roll  of  bills  as  thick  as  a 
skys'l  yard,  he  did.  Must  have  had  a  lucky  voyage,  I  guess. 
Eh?  Ha,  ha!" 

He  moved  off,  still  chuckling.  Kendrick  walked  down  the 
lower  road  pondering  on  what  he  had  heard.  Egbert,  the 
professed  pauper,  in  possession  of  money  and  voluntarily 
paying  his  debts.  What  might  that  mean? 

Sarah  met  him  at  the  door.    She  seemed  distressed. 

"There!"  she  cried,  as  he  approached.  "If  this  isn't  too 
bad!  And  I  was  afraid  of  it,  too.  You've  walked  way 
down  here,  Sears,  on  those  poor  legs  of  yours,  and  Mr. 
Phillips  has  gone  again.  And  I  don't  think  he'll  be  back 
before  night,  if  he  is  then.  He  said  not  to  worry  if  he 
wasn't,  because  he  might  have  to  go  to  Trumet.  Isn't  it  a 
shame  ?" 

It  was  a  shame  and  a  rather  desperate  shame.  This  was 
Tuesday.  If  the  interview  with  Egbert  was  to  take  place  at 
all,  it  should  be  that  day,  or  the  next.  He  looked  at  his 
sister's  face  and  something  in  her  expression  caused  him  to 
ask  a  question. 

"What  is  it,  Sarah?"  he  demanded.  "What's  the  rest  of 
it?" 

She  hesitated.  "Sears,"  she  said,  after  looking  over  her 
shoulder  to  make  sure  none  of  the  children  was  within 
hearing,  "there's  somethin'  else.  I — I  don't  know,  but — 


FAIR    HARBOR  337 


but  I'm  almost  sure  Mr.  Phillips  won't  be  back  to-night.  I 
think  he's  gone  to  stay." 

"Stay?  What  do  you  mean?  Did  he  take  his  dunnage 
— his  things — with  him?" 

"No.  His  trunk  is  in  his  room.  And  he  didn't  have  a 
satchel  or  a  valise  in  his  hand.  But,  Sears,  I  can't  under 
stand  it — they're  gone — his  valises  are  gone/' 

"Gone !    Gone  where  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  That's  the  funny  part  of  it.  He's  always 
kept  two  valises  in  his  room,  a  big  one  and  a  little  one.  I 
went  into  his  room  just  now  to  make  the  beds  and  clean 
up  and  I  didn't  see  those  valises  anywhere.  I  thought  that 
was  funny  and  then  I  noticed  that  the  things  on  his  bureau, 
his  brushes  and  comb  and  things,  weren't  there.  Then  I 
looked  in  his  bureau  drawers  and  everything  was  gone,  the 
drawers  were  empty.  .  .  .  Sears,  what  do  you  suppose  it 
means  ?" 

Her  brother  did  not  answer  at  once.  He  tugged  at  his 
beard  and  frowned.  Then  he  asked : 

"Didn't  he  say  a  word  more  than  you've  told  me  ?  Or  do 
anything  ?" 

"No.  He  had  his  breakfast  out  here  with  us  this  mornin'. 
Then  he  went  back  to  his  room  and,  about  nine  or  so,  he 

came  out  to  me  and  paid  his  board  bill Oh,  I  told  you 

he'd  pay  it,  Sears ;  he  always  does  pay — and  then " 

"Here!  Heave  to!  Hold  on,  Sarah!  He  paid  his  bill, 
all  of  it?" 

"'Yes.  Right  up  to  now.  That  was  kind  of  funny,  bein' 
the  middle  of  the  week  instead  of  the  end,  but  he  said  ws, 
might  as  well  start  with  a  clean  ledger,  or  somethin'  nice 
and  pleasant  like  that.  Then  he  took  a  bundle  of  money 
from  his  pocket-book — a  great,  big  bundle  it  was,  and — Why, 
why,  Sears,  what  is  it?  Where  are  you  goin'?" 

The  captain  had  pushed  by  her  and  was  on  his  way  to 
the  front  of  the  house. 

"Goin'?"  he  repeated.  "I'm  goin'  to  have  a  look  at  those 
rooms  of  his.  You'd  better  come  with  me,  Sarah." 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE  keeper  of  the  livery  stable  was  surprised.    "Why, 
yes,"  he  said,  "Mr.  Phillips  was  here  a  spell  ago.    He 
said  he  was  cal'latin'  to  go  to  Trumet  to-day  on  a 
business  cruise,  and  he  hired  Josiah  and  the  bay  horse  and 
buggy  to  get  him  over  there.     They  left  about  ten  o'clock, 
I  should  say  'twas.    I  had  a  mind  to  ask  him  why  he  didn't 
take  the  train,  but  then  I  thought  'twould  be  poor  business 
for  a  fellow  that  let  teams,  so  I  kept  still.    Hey?    Ho,  ho!" 

The  captain,  somewhat  out  of  breath  after  his  hurried 
walk  from  the  Macomber  home  to  the  stable,  pondered  a 
moment.  "Did  he  have  a  valise  or  satchel  or  anything  with 
him?"  he  asked. 

"No.  Nothin'  but  his  cane.  Couldn't  navigate  a  yard 
without  his  cane,  that  feller  couldn't,  seemed  so.  Looked 
kind  of  spruced  up,  too.  Dressed  in  his  best  bib  and  tucker, 
he  was,  beaver  hat  and  all.  Cal'late  he  must  be  goin'  to  see 
his  best  girl,  eh.  Ho,  ho !  Guess  not  though ;  from  what 
I  hear  his  best  girl's  down  to  the  Fair  Harbor." 

Kendrick  pondered  a  moment  longer. 
,     "Did  he  pay  for  the  team?"  he  inquired. 

"Hey?  Yus,  paid  in  advance,  spot  cash.  But  what  you 
askin'  all  this  for,  Cap'n?  Wanted  to  see  him  afore  he 
went,  did  you?" 

Sears  nodded.  "Just  a  business  matter,"  he  explained, 
and  walked  away.  He  did  not  walk  far,  only  to  the  corner. 
There  on  the  low  stone  wall  bordering  on  the  east  the  prop 
erty  of  Captain  Orrin  Eldridge,  he  seated  himself  to  rest 
and  cogitate. 

His  cogitations  were  most  unsatisfactory.  They  got  him 
nowhere.  He  and  his  sister  had  pretty  thoroughly  inspected 

338 


FAIR    HARBOR  339 


Egbert's  quarters  at  the  Macomber  house.  The  Phillips 
trunk  was  still  there,  and  the  "horse  pictures"  and  the  pho 
tographs  of  Lobelia's  charming  lady  friends!  but  there  was 
precious  little  else.  Toilet  articles,  collars,  ties  and  more 
intimate  articles  of  wearing  apparel  were  missing  and,  ex 
cept  for  a  light  coat  and  a  summer  suit  of  clothes,  the  closets 
were  empty.  And,  as  Sarah  had  said,  the  two  valises  had 
vanished.  Egbert  had  told  his  landlady  he  was  going  to 
Trumet ;  he  had  told  the  livery  man  the  same  thing.  But  by 
far  the  easiest  way  to  reach  Trumet  was  by  train.  Why 
had  he  chosen  to  be  driven  there  over  a  long  and  very  bad 
road  ?  And  what  had  become  of  the  valises  ? 

And  then  occurred  the  second  of  a  series  of  incidents 
which  had  a  marked  and  helpful  bearing  up  Captain  Ken- 
drick's  actions  that  day.  He  said  afterwards  that,  for  the 
first  time  since  his  railway  accident,  he  really  began  to 
believe  the  tide  of  luck  was  turning  in  his  direction.  The 
first  of  those  incidents  had  been  his  meeting  and  talk  with 
Captain  Elkanah.  That  had  sent  him  hurrying  to  the  Ma- 
combers'  earlier  than  he  intended.  The  second  incident  was 
that  now,  as  he  sat  there  on  the  Eldridge  wall,  down  the 
road  came  the  Minot  truck  wagon  with  the  Foam  Flake 
in  the  shafts  and  Judah  Cahoon  swinging  and  jolting  on 
the  seat. 

Judah  spied  him  and  hailed. 

"Ahoy,  there,  Cap'n  Sears!"  he  shouted,  pulling  the  old 
horse  to  a  standstill.  "Thought  you  was  down  to  Sary's 
long  ago.  What  you  doin'  on  that  wall — gone  to  roost  so 
early  in  the  day?" 

The  captain  smiled.  "Not  exactly,  Judah,"  he  replied. 
"But  what  are  you  doin'  'way  back  here?  I  thought  you 
were  haulin'  Seth  Bangs's  wood  for  him." 

"Huh!"  in  disgust;  "I  thought  I  was,  too,  but  there  was 
some  kind  of  mix-up  in  the  time.  Cal'late  'twas  that  Han 
nah  Bangs  that  muddled  it — she  could  muddle  a  cake  of  ice, 
that  woman.  Kind  of  born  with  a  knack  for  makin'  mis 
takes,  she  is ;  and  she's  the  biggest  mistake  herself,  'cordin' 


340  FAIR    HARBOR 


to  my  notion.     Seems   'twas  to-morrow,  not  to-day,   Seth 
expected  me  to  come." 

"Humph !    So  you  had  your  cruise  up  there  for  nothin'  ?" 

"Yus.  Creepin',  jumpin' !  Think  of  it,  Cap'n.  I  navi 
gated  this  old — er — er — spavin-rack  'way  up  to  where  them 
folks  live,  three  mile  on  the  Denboro  road  'tis,  and  then 
had  to  come  about  and  beat  for  home  again.  I  ...  Oh, 
say,  I  sighted  a  chum  of  ours  up  along  that  way.  Who  do 
you  cal'late  'twas,  Cap'n  Sears?  Old  Eg,  that's  who. 
Togged  out  from  truck  to  keelson  as  usual,  beaver  and  all, 
and " 

"Here!  Holdup!  What's  that,  Judah?  You  saw  Phil 
lips  up  on  the  Denboro  road,  you  say?  What  was  he  doin' 
there?  When  did  you  see  him?" 

"  'Bout  an  hour  ago,  or  such  matter.  He  was  aboard 
one  of  the  livery  stable  teams  and  that  Josiah  Ellis  was 
pilotin'  him.  I  sung  out  to  Josiah,  but  he  never  answered. 
Says  I " 

"Sshh !    Where  were  they  bound  ;  do  you  know  ?" 

"Denboro,  I  presume  likely.  That's  the  only  place  there 
is  to  be  bound  to,  on  that  road;  'less  you're  goin'  perchin' 
up  to  Seabury's  Pond,  and  folks  don't  do  much  perchin'  in 
December.  Not  with  beaver  hats  on,  anyhow.  Haw,  haw ! 
Eg  and  Josiah  was  all  jammed  up  together  on  the  buggy 
seat,  with  two  big  valises  crammed  in  alongside  of  'em,  and 
.  .  .  Hi!  What's  the  matter,  Cap'n  Sears?  What's  your 
hurry?" 

The  captain  did  not  answer.  He  was  hurrying — hurry 
ing  back  to  the  livery  stable.  Half  an  hour  later  he,  too, 
was  on  the  seat  of  a  hired  buggy,  driving  the  best  horse 
the  stable  afforded  up  the  lonely  road  leading  to  Denboro. 

He  met  no  one  on  that  road — which  winds  and  twists 
over  the  hills  and  through  the  wooded  hollows  from  one 
side  of  the  Cape  to  the  other — until  he  was  within  a  mile 
of  Denboro  village.  Then  he  saw  another  horse  and  buggy 
approaching  his.  He  recognized  the  occupant  of  that  buggy 
long  before  he  himself  was  recognized. 


FAIR    HARBOR  341 


"Hi !"  he  shouted,  as  the  two  vehicles  came  near  each 
other.  "Hi!  Josiah!  Josiah  Ellis!" 

Josiah,  serenely  dozing,  his  feet  propped  against  the  dash 
and  his  cap  over  his  eyes,  came  slowly  to  life. 

"Hey  ?"  he  murmured,  drowsily.  "Yes ;  here  I  be.  ... 
Eh!  What's  the  matter?  Why,  hello,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  that 
you?" 

"Whoa!"  ordered  the  captain,  addressing  his  own  horse, 
who  came  to  a  standstill  beside  that  driven  by  the  other. 
"Stop,  Josiah!  Come  up  into  the  wind  a  minute,  I  want 
to  speak  to  you.  What  have  you  done  with  Phillips?" 

Josiah  was  surprised.  "Why,  how  did  you  know  I  had 
Mr.  Phillips  aboard?"  he  asked.  "Oh,  I  presume  likely 
they  told  you  at  the  stable.  But  how  did  you  know  he  was 
goin'  to  Denboro?  7  never  knew  it  till  after  we  started. 
When  we  left  port  I  supposed  'twas  Trumet  we  was  bound 
for,  but  we  hadn't  much  more'n  got  under  way  when  Mr. 
Phillips  says  he's  changed  his  mind  and  wants  to  come  over 
here.  Didn't  make  no  difference  to  me,  of  course.  I  get 
my  wages,  Saturday  nights,  just  the  same  whether " 

"Where  is  Phillips  now  ?" 

"I  was  tellin'  you.  So  we  came  about  and  headed  for 
Denboro.  Next  thing  we  had  to  haul  up  abreast  of  that 
old  tumbledown  shed  at  the  end  of  Tabby  Crosby's  lot  there 
by  the  meetin'-house  while  Mr.  Phillips  hopped  out  and  got 
a  couple  of  great  big  satchels  he'd  left  there.  Big  as  trunks 
they  was,  pretty  nigh,  and  time  he  got  them  stowed  in 
here  there  wan't  no  room  for  knees  nor  feet  nor  nawthin' 
else  scurcely.  But,  finally " 

"Hold  on !  Why  did  he  have  his  dunnage  in  Tabitha 
Crosby's  shed?" 

"That's  what  7  couldn't  make  out.  He  said  he  left  'em 
there  so's  not  to  have  to  go  out  of  our  way  to  get  'em  at 
Joe  Macomber's.  But  it's  about  as  nigh  to  Joe's  as  'tis  to 
Tabby's,  seems  to  me.  Seemed  funny  enough,  that  did,  but 
'twan't  no  funnier  than  comin'  way  over  to  the  Denboro 
depot  to  take  the  same  train  he  might  have  took  just  as 


342  FAIR    HARBOR 


well  at  Bayport.  /  couldn't  make  it  out.  Can  you,  Cap'n 
Kendrick?" 

"Did  you  leave  him  at  the  Denboro  depot  ?" 

"Yus.  "Bout  an  hour  ago,  or  such  matter.  And  the  up 
train  ain't  due  till  four,  and  it's  only  half-past  twelve  now. 
I  stopped  at  the  Denboro  House  to  get  some  diner.  A  fel 
ler  has  to  eat  once  in  a  while,  even  if  he  ain't  rich.  And 
talk  about  chargin'  high  prices !  All  I  had  was  some  chow 
der  and  a  piece  of  pie  and  tea,  and  I  swan  if  they  didn't 
stick  me  thirty-five  cents !  Yes,  sir,  thirty-five  cents !  And 
the  pie  was  dried-apple  at  that.  Don't  talk  to  me  no  more 
about  that  Denboro  House !  If  I  ever " 

Kendrick  heard  no  more.  He  was  on  his  way  to  the 
railway  station  at  Denboro.  The  mystery  of  the  valises 
was,  in  one  way,  explained;  in  another  it  was  more  mys 
terious  than  ever.  Evidently  Phillips  must  have  taken  them 
from  his  rooms  either  early  that  morning  or  during  the  night 
— probably  the  latter — and  hidden  them  in  the  Crosby  shed. 
But  why? 

Denboro  was  a  sleepy  little  village  and  at  that  hour  on 
that  raw  December  day  the  railway  station  was  as  sleepy  as 
the  rest  of  it.  The  station  agent,  who  was  also  the  tele 
graph  operator,  was  locking  his  door  preparatory  to  going 
home  for  dinner.  He  and  the  captain  were  old  acquaint 
ances.  In  days  gone  by  he  had  sailed  as  second  mate 
aboard  a  bark  which  Kendrick  commanded.  Now,  retired 
from  the  sea,  he  was  depot  master  and  pound-keeper  and 
constable  in  his  native  town.  And,  like  most  of  Sears'  ship 
mates,  he  was  glad  to  see  his  former  skipper. 

They  shook  hands,  exchanged  observations  concerning  the 
weather,  and  then  the  depot  master  asked  what  he  could  do 
for  his  friend. 

"I'm  lookin'  for  a  man  named  Phillips,"  explained  Ken 
drick.  "Josiah  Ellis — fellow  that  drives  for  the  livery, 
stable  over  home — told  me  he  left  him  here  at  your  depot, 
Jim.  About  an  hour  ago,  Josiah  said  it  was.  He  doesn't 
seem  to  be  here  now ;  do  you  know  where  he's  gone  ?" 

Jim  rubbed  his  chin.     "Tall  feller,  thin,  long  mustache, 


FAIR    HARBOR  343 


beaver  hat,  talks  important  and  patronizin'  like  a  combina 
tion  of  Admiral  Farragut  and  the  Angel  Gabriel?"  he  in 
quired. 

"That's  the  man." 

"He  was  here.  Left  them  two  valises  yonder  in  my  care. 
He's  comin'  back  in  time  to  take  the  three-fifteen." 

"Three-fifteen?  I  thought  the  up  train  left  here  at  half- 
past  four  or  somethin'  like  that." 

"The  reg'lar  train  does.  But  there's  a  kind  of  combina 
tion,  three  or  four  freight  and  one  passenger  car,  that  comes 
up  from  Hyannis  and  goes  on  ahead  of  the  other.  It  don't 
go  only  to  Middleboro.  He  said  he  was  cal'latin'  to  take 
that.  I  had  a  notion  he  was  goin'  to  change  at  Middleboro 
and  go  somewheres  else  from  there." 

"I  see.    Yes,  yes.     And  you  don't  know  where  he  is  now  ?" 

"Well,  he  asked  where  was  the  best  place  to  eat  and  I 
told  him  some  went  to  the  hotel  and  some  to  Amanda  War 
ren's  boardin'-house.  'Most  of  'em  only  go  to  the  hotel 
once,  though,'  says  I.  I  guess  likely  you'll  find  him  at 
Amanda's." 

So  to  Mrs.  Warren's  boarding-house  the  captain  drove. 
The  lady  herself  opened  the  door  for  him.  Yes,  the  gen 
tleman  described  had  been  there.  Yes,  he  had  eaten  dinner 
and  gone. 

"Do  you  know  where  he  has  gone  ?"  asked  Kendrick. 

Mrs.  Warren  nodded.  "He  asked  me  where  Mr.  Backus, 
the  Methodist  minister,  lived,"  she  said.  "He  was  real 
particular  to  find  out  how  to  get  there,  so  I  guess  that's 
where  he  was  bound." 

The  Methodist  minister!  Why  on  earth  Egbert  Phillips 
should  go  to  the  home  of  a  minister  was  another  mystery 
beyond  Sears  Kendrick's  power  of  surmise.  However,  he 
too  inquired  the  way  to  the  Backus  domicile  and  once  more 
took  up  the  chase. 

The  Methodist  parsonage  was  a  neat  little  white  house, 
green-shuttered,  and  with  a  white  picket  fence  inclosing  its 
little  front  yard.  It  being  the  home  of  a  clergyman,  Sears 


344  FAIR    HARBOR 


ventured  to  knock  at  the  front  door ;  otherwise  he  would,  of 
course,  have  gone  around  to  the  side  entrance. 

A  white-haired  little  woman  answered  the  knock.  No,  Mr. 
Backus  was  out,  but  he  was  expected  back  very  soon.  He 
had  an  appointment  at  two,  so  she  was  sure  he  would  be  in 
by  that  time.  Would  the  captain  come  in  and  wait?  There 
was  another  gentleman  now  in  the  parlor  waiting.  Yes,  a 
tall  gentleman  with  a  mustache. 

At  last!  Another  minute,  and  Captain  Kendrick,  enter 
ing  the  Backus  parlor,  came  face  to  face  with  the  elusive 
object  of  his  search,  Mr.  Egbert  Phillips. 

Egbert  was  sitting  in  a  rocking  chair  by  the  marble-topped 
center  table.  A  plush-covered  photograph  album  was  on 
that  table  and  he  was  languidly  turning  its  pages  and  in 
specting,  with  a  smile  of  tolerant  amusement,  the  like 
nesses  of  the  Backus  friends  and  relatives.  As  the  door 
opened  he  turned,  his  smile  changing  to  one  of  greeting. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Backus "  he  began.  And  then  he  stopped. 

It  was  the  captain  who  smiled  now.  His  smile  was  as  genial 
as  a  summer  morn. 

"Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Phillips,"  he  said.  "How  are  you, 
sir?" 

He  stepped  forward  with  extended  hand.  Still  Egbert 
stood  and  stared.  The  photograph  album,  imperfectly  bal 
anced  on  the  edge  of  the  table,  slipped  to  the  floor. 

The  clergyman's  wife  seemed  a  trifle  puzzled  and  per 
turbed  by  the  Phillips  expression  and  attitude. 

"This  gentleman  said "  she  began.  "He  said  you  and 

he " 

Kendrick  helped  her  to  finish:  "I  told  the  lady,"  he  put 
in  cheerfully,  "that  I  had  come  'way  over  from  Bayport  to 
see  you  about  a  little  matter.  I  said  we  knew  each  other 
pretty  well  and  I  was  sure  you'd  be  glad  to  see  me,  even 
if  I  was  kind  of  unexpected.  .  .  .  Excuse  me,  but  you've 
dropped  your  picture  book." 

He  stooped,  picked  up  the  album  and  replaced  it  on  the 
table.  This  action  occupied  but  a  moment  of  time,  never 
theless  in  that  moment  a  portion  at  least  of  Egbert's  poise 


FAIR    HARBOR  345 


returned.  His  smile  might  have  been  a  bit  uncertain,  but 
it  was  a  smile.  And  when  Sears  again  extended  his  hand 
his  own  came  to  meet  it. 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  he  said.  "Yes — ah — yes,  indeed. 
How  do  you  do,  Kendrick  ?" 

The  captain  beamed.  "Oh,  I'm  feelin'  tip-top,"  he  de 
clared.  "The  sight  of  you  is  enough  to  make  me  well,  even 
if  I  was  sick — which  I'm  not.  Now  if  you  and  I  might  have 
a  little  talk?" 

Mrs.  Backus  was  anxious  to  oblige. 

"You  make  yourselves  right  at  home  in  here,"  she  said. 
"If  my  husband  comes  I'll  tell  him  to  wait  until  you're 
through.  Take  all  the  time  you  want." 

She  was  at  the  threshold,  but  Phillips  detained  her. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said,  hastily,  "but  we  mustn't  abuse  your 
hospitality  to  that  extent.  This — ah — gentleman  and  I  can 
talk  just  as  well  out  of  doors.  Really,  I " 

"Oh,  no !  You  must  stay  right  here.  Please  do.  It  isn't 
the  least  trouble." 

She  went  and  the  door  closed  behind  her.  Egbert  glanced 
at  the  clock  on  the  mantel  and  frowned.  Captain  Kendrick 
continued  to  smile. 

"And  here  we  are  at  last,"  he  observed.  "Quiet  and  so 
ciable  as  you  please.  Sit  down,  Mr.  Phillips,  sit  down." 

But  Egbert  did  not  sit.  He  glanced  at  the  clock  once 
more  and  then  at  his  watch. 

"Sit  down,"  repeated  the  captain.  "I've  been  cruisin'  so 
much  this  forenoon  that  I'm  glad  of  the  chance  to  sit.  From 
what  I've  been  able  to  learn  you've  been  movin'  pretty  lively, 
too.  A  little  rest  won't  do  either  of  us  any  harm.  Sit 
down,  Mr.  Phillips.  Take  the  rocker." 

Phillips  walked  to  the  front  window,  looked  out,  hesi 
tated,  and  then,  returning,  did  take  the  rocker.  He  looked 
at  his  fellow-townsman. 

"Well?"  he  asked. 

Kendrick  nodded.  "Yes,"  he  agreed,  "it  is  well,  real  well, 
now  that  I've  caught  up  with  you.  I'll  say  this  for  you, 
you're  as  good  a  craft  for  leavin'  a  crooked  wake  as  any  I 


346  FAIR    HARBOR 


ever  chased.  For  a  while  there  you  had  me  hull  down.  But 
I'm  here  now — and  so  are  you." 

Egbert's  slim  hand  slowly  stroked  his  mustache. 

"There  appears  to  be  some  truth  in  that  remark,"  he 
declared.  "We  do  seem  to  be  here — yes.  .  .  .  But " 

"But  you  are  wonderin'  why  I  am  here?  Well,  to  be  hon 
est,  I  came  to  find  you.  I  judged  that  you  were  thinkin'  of 
leavin'  us — for  a  spell,  anyhow — and  before  you  went  I 
wanted  to  talk  with  you,  that's  all." 

A  pause,  and  more  mustache  stroking.  The  two  men  re 
garded  each  other;  the  captain  blandly  beaming,  Phillips 
evidently  pondering. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said,  at  last,  "what  you  may  mean  by 
my  thinking  of  leaving  you.  However,  that  is  not  mate 
rial,  and  I  am  always  delighted  to  see  you,  of  course.  But 
as  I  am  rather  busy  this  afternoon  perhaps  you'll  be  good 
enough  to  come  to  the  point.  ...  If  there  is  a  point." 

"Yes,  there  is.  Oh,  yes,  there's  a  point.  Two  or  three 
points." 

"Indeed !  How  interesting.  And  what  are  they  ?  Please 
be  as — ah — brief  as  you  can." 

Sears  crossed  his  legs.  All  this  had  been  but  preliminary 
maneuvering.  Here  now  was  the  real  beginning  of  the 
fight;  and  he  realized  only  too  keenly  that  his  side  in  that 
fight  was  tremendously  short  of  ammunition.  But  he  did 
not  mean  that  his  adversary  should  guess  that  fact,  and 
with  the  smiling  serenity  of  absolute  confidence  he  fired  the 
opening  gun. 

"Egbert,"  he  began — "you  don't  mind  my  callin'  you  Eg 
bert  ?  Knowin'  you  as  well  as  I  do,  it  seems  foolish  to  stand 
on  ceremony,  don't  you  think?  You  don't  mind?" 

"Not  at  all.     Charmed,  I'm  sure.  .  .  .     Well?" 

"Well — yes.  We've  got  a  good  many  mutual  friends — 
you  and  I,  Egbert.  One  of  'em  is  named  George  Kent. 
He's  a  great  friend  of  both  of  us.  Nice  boy,  too." 

At  the  mention  of  the  name  the  Phillips  hand,  caressing 
the  Phillips  mustache,  paused  momentarily.  But  it  resumed 
operations  almost  at  once.  Other  than  this  there  was  no 


FAIR    HARBOR  347 


sign  of  perturbation  on  its  owner's  part.  He  slowly  shook 
his  head. 

"My  dear  Captain  Kendrick "  he  drawled. 

"Oh,  call  me  Sears.     Don't  be  formal." 

"My  dear  man,  if  it  is  possible  for  you  to  come  to  the 
point?  Without  too  great  a  strain  on  your — ah — intellect?" 

"I'm  comin',  Egbert.  Right  abreast  there  now.  George 
— our  mutual  friend — is  in  trouble.  He  has  used  some 
money  that  he  can't  spare,  used  it  in  a  stock  deal.  I  won't 
go  into  the  particulars  because  you  know  'em  juSt  as  well 
as  I  do.  You  got  him  into  the  trouble  in  the  first  place,  I 
understand.  Now,  to  a  man  up  a  tree,  as  the  boys  say,  it 
would  seem  as  if  you  ought  to  be  the  one  to  get  him  out. 
Particularly  as  you  are  his  very  best  friend.  Don't  you 
think  so?" 

Egbert  sighed  before  answering,  a  sigh  of  utter  weariness. 

"And  may  I  ask  if  this  is  the — ah — point?"  he  inquired. 

"Why,  yes — I  guess  so.     In  a  way." 

"And  you  are  acting  as  our  young  friend's  representa 
tive?  He  has  seen  fit  to  take  you  into  his  confidence  con 
cerning  a  matter  which  was  supposed  to  be  a  business  secret 
between — ah — gentlemen  ?" 

"I  could  see  he  was  in  trouble  and  I  offered  to  do  what 
I  could  to  help.  Then  he  told  me  the  whole  thing." 

"Indeed?  A  changeable  youth.  When  I  last  heard  him 
mention  your  name  it  was  not — pardon  me — in  a — shall  we 
say  strictly  affectionate  tone?" 

"That  so  ?  Too  bad.  But  we  are  all  liable  to  be  mistaken 
in  our  judgments.  Men — and  women,  too." 

Again  there  was  a  slight  pause ;  Egbert  was  regarding  the 
speaker  intently.  The  latter's  countenance  was  about  as  ex 
pressive  as  that  of  a  wooden  idol,  a  good-natured  one.  Mr. 
Phillips  glanced  once  more  at  the  clock,  languidly  closed  his 
eyes,  opened  them,  sighed  for  the  third  time,  and  then 
spoke. 

"So  I  am  to  understand  that  our — ah — juvenile  acquaint 
ance  has  turned  his  business  affairs  over  to  you,"  he  said. 
"I  congratulate  him,  I'm  sure.  The  marked  success  which 


348  FAIR    HARBOR 


you  have  attained  in  the — ah — management  of — ah — other 
business  affairs  has  inspired  him  with  perfect  trust,  doubt 
less." 

"That  must  be  it.  The  average  man  has  to  trust  some 
body  and  I  gathered  that  some  trusts  of  his  were  beginnin' 
to  slip  their  moorin's.  However,  here's  the  situation.  You 
got  him  to  buy  some  stock  on  margin.  The  stock,  instead 
of  goin'  up,  as  you  prophesied,  went  down.  You  suggested 
his  puttin'  up  more  margin.  He'd  used  all  his  own  money, 
so  he  used  some  belonging  to  some  one  else.  Now  he's  in 
trouble,  bad  trouble.  What  are  you  goin'  to  do  about  it?" 

"I?  My  dear  man,  what  should  I  do  about  it?  What 
can  I  do?  I  have  explained  my  situation  to  him.  I  am, 
owing  to  circumstances  and  the — ah — machinations  of  certain 
individuals — both  circumstances  and  individuals  of  your  ac 
quaintance,  I  believe — in  a  most  unfortunate  position  finan 
cially.  I  have  no  money,  or  very  little.  Our — your  young 
protege  wished  to  risk  some  of  his  money  in  a  certain  specu 
lation.  I  did  the  same.  The  speculation  was  considered 
good  at  the  time.  I  still  consider  it  good,  although  profit 
may  be  deferred.  He  took  the  risk  with  his  eyes  open.  He 
is  of  age.  He  is  not  a  child,  although — pardon  me — this 
new  action  of  his  might  lead  one  to  think  him  such.  I  am 
sorry  for  him,  but  I  do  not  consider  myself  at  all  respon 
sible." 

"I  see.  But  he  has  used  money  which  wasn't  his  to  specu 
late  with." 

"I  am  sorry,  deeply  sorry.     But — is  that  my  fault?" 

"Well,  that  might  be  a  question,  mightn't  it?  You  knew 
he  was  usin'  that  money?" 

"Pardon  me — pardon  me,  Kendrick;  but  is  that — ah — 
strictly  true?" 

"Well,  he  says  it  is.  However,  the  question  is  just  this : 
Will  you  help  him  out  by  buyin'  up  his  share  in  this  C.  M. 
deal?  Pay  him  back  his  sixteen  hundred  and  take  the 
whole  thing  over  yourself?" 

Mr.  Phillips  for  the  first  time  permitted  himself  the  lux 
ury  of  a  real  smile. 


FAIR    HARBOR  349 


"My  dear  man,"  he  observed,  "you're  not  seriously  offer 
ing  such  a  proposition  as  that,  are  you?  You  must  be 
joking." 

"It's  no  joke  to  poor  George.  And  he's  only  a  boy,  after 
all.  You  wouldn't  want  him  to  go  to  jail." 

The  smile  disappeared.  "I  should  be  pained,"  protested 
Egbert,  and  proved  it  by  looking  pained.  "It  would  grieve 
me  deeply.  But  I  can't  think  such  a  contingency  possible. 
No,  no;  not  possible.  And  in  time — my  brokers  assure  me 
a  very  short  time — the  stock  will  advance." 

"And  you  won't  take  over  his  share  and  get  all  that  profit 
yourself?" 

"I  can't.  It  is  impossible.  I  am  so  sorry.  In  former 
days — "  with  a  gesture  of  resignation — "it  would  have 
been  quite  possible.  Then  I  should  have  been  delighted. 
But  now  .  .  .  However,  you  must,  as  a  man  of  the  world, 
see  that  all  this  is  quite  absurd.  And  it  is  painful  to  me,  as 
a  friend — still  a  friend  of  young  Kent's.  Pardon  me  again, 
but  I  am  busy  this  afternoon  and " 

He  rose.     Sears  did  not  rise.    He  remained  seated. 

"Jail's  a  mean  place,"  he  remarked,  with  apparent  irrele 
vance.  "I'd  hate  to  go  there  myself.  So  would  you,  I'll 
bet." 

Another  pause  on  Phillips'  part.  Then  another  wearied 
smile. 

"Do  you — ah — foresee  any  likelihood  of  either  of  us  ar 
riving  at  that  destination?"  he  inquired. 

"Well,  I'm  hopin'  to  stay  out,  for  a  spell  anyway.  Mr. 
Phillips — Egbert — yes,  yes,  Egbert,  of  course;  we're  gettin' 
better  acquainted  all  the  time,  so  we  just  mustn't  stand  on 
ceremony.  Egbert,  how  about  those  City  of  Boston  4^28 
you  put  up  as  security  over  there  in  New  York  ?  What  are 
you  goin'  to  do  about  them?" 

Egbert  had  strolled  to  the  window  and  was  looking  out. 
He  continued  to  look  out.  The  captain,  his  gaze  fixed  upon 
the  beautifully  draped,  even  though  the  least  bit  shiny, 
shoulders  of  the  Phillips'  coat,  watched  eagerly  for  some 
shiver,  some  sign  of  agitation,  however  slight.  But  there 


350  FAIR    HARBOR 


was  none.  The  sole  indication  that  the  shot  just  fired  had 
had  any  effect  was  the  length  of  time  Egbert  took  before 
turning.  When  he  did  turn  he  was  still  blandly  smiling. 
He  walked  back  to  the  rocker  and  settled  himself  upon 
its  patchwork  cushion. 

"Yes?"  he  queried.     "You  were  saying " 

"I  was  speakin'  of  those  two  one  thousand  dollar  City  of 
Boston  bonds  you  sent  your  brokers,  you  know.  Would 
you  mind  tellin'  me  how  you  got  those  bonds?" 

Mr.  Phillips  lifted  one  slim  leg  over  the  other.  He 
lifted  two  slim  hands  and  placed  their  finger  tips  together. 

"Kendrick,"  he  asked,  "you  will  pardon  me  for  speaking 
plainly?  Thank  you  so  much.  I  have  already  listened  to 
you  for  some  time — more  time  than  I  should  have  spared. 
For  some  reason  you  have — ah — seen  fit  to — shall  we  say 
pursue  me  here.  Having  found  me,  you  make  a  most — 
pardon  me  again — unreasonable  and  childish  demand  on  the 
part  of  young  Kent.  I  cannot  grant  it.  Now  is  there  any 
use  wasting  more  time  by  asking — pardon  me  once  more — 
impertinent  questions  concerning  my  affairs?  You  can 
scarcely — well,  even  you,  my  dear  Kendrick,  can  hardly  ex 
pect  me  to  answer  them.  Don't  you  think  this — ah — ex 
tremely  pleasant  interview  had  better  end  pleasantly — by 
ending  now?" 

He  would  have  risen  once  more,  but  Sears  motioned  him 
to  remain  in  the  rocker.  The  captain  leaned  forward. 

"Egbert,"  he  said  briskly,  "I'm  busy,  too ;  but  I  have  spent 
a  good  many  hours  and  some  dollars  to  get  at  you  and  I 
shan't  leave  you  until  I  get  at  least  a  part  of  what  I  came 
after.  Those  Boston  bonds " 

"Are  my  property,  sir." 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  T%ie  last  anybody  heard  they  were 
the  property  of  Mrs.  Cordelia  Berry.  Now  you  say  they're 
yours.  That's  one  of  the  matters  to  be  settled  before  you 
and  I  part  company,  Egbert." 

Mr.  Phillips'  aristocratic  form  stiffened.  Slowly  he  rose 
to  his  feet. 


FAIR    HARBOR  351 


"You  are  insulting,"  he  proclaimed.  "That  will  do.  There 
is  the  door." 

"Yes,  I  see  it.  It's  a  nice  door;  the  grainin'  on  it  seems 
to  be  pretty  well  done.  How  did  you  get  hold  of  those 
bonds,  Egbert?" 

"If  you  don't  go,  I  shall." 

"All  right.  Then  I'll  go  with  you.  You  shan't  take  the 
three-fifteen  or  any  other  train  till  weVe  settled  this  and 
some  other  questions.  Oh,  it's  a  fact.  No  hard  feelin',  you 
know ;  just  business,  that's  all." 

Egbert  moved  toward  the  door.  His  caller  rose  to  follow 
him.  The  captain  often  wondered  afterward  whether  or 
not  Phillips  would  really  have  left  the  room  if  there  had 
been  no  interruption.  The  question  remained  a  question 
because  at  that  moment  there  was  a  knock  on  the  other  side 
of  the  door.  It  had  a  marked  effect  upon  Egbert.  He 
started,  frowned  and  shot  another  glance  at  the  clock. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Mrs.  Backus,  opening  the  door  a 
crack,  "but  my  husband  has  come." 

Phillips  seemed  relieved,  yet  troubled,  too. 

"Yes — ah — yes,"  he  said.  "Will  you  kindly  ask  him  to 
wait  ?  Thank  you." 

The  lady  closed  the  door  again.  Egbert  took  a  turn 
across  the  room  and  back.  Kendrick  smiled  cheerfully. 

"About  those  bonds?"  he  observed. 

Phillips  faced  him. 

"The  bonds,"  he  declared,  "are  mine.  How  I  got  them 
is  not  your  business  in  the  least." 

"Just  a  minute,  just  a  minute.     Cordelia  Berry " 

"Did  Mrs.  Berry  tell  you  that  I  had  them  ?" 

"No  need  to  bother  with  that  part  of  it  now.     I  know." 

"But  she  did  not  give  you  authority  to  come  to  me  about 
them?  Don't  pretend  she  did;  I  know  better." 

"I'm  not  goin'  to  pretend — that.     She  didn't." 

"Humph!"  with  a  sneer;  "perhaps  your  authority  comes 
from  some  one  else.  Her  daughter,  maybe?  You  and  she 
are — or  shall  we  say  were — quite  touchingly  confidential  at 
one  time,  I  believe." 


352  FAIR    HARBOR 


The  tone  and  the  remark  were  mistakes ;  it  would  have 
been  much  better  for  the  Phillips  cause  if  the  speaker  had 
continued  to  be  loftily  condescending.  Sears  kept  a  grip  on 
his  temper,  but  his  own  tone  changed  as  he  replied. 

"Egbert,"  he  said  sharply,  "look  here.  The  facts,  as  far 
as  a  man  without  a  spyglass  can  sight  'em  through  the  fog, 
are  just  these:  You  got  George  Kent  into  a  stock  trade. 
He  put  up  money — real  money.  You  put  up  two  thousand 
dollars  in  bonds  and,  because  that  was  more  than  your 
share,  he  paid  you  four  hundred  dollars  in  cash.  The  last 
anybody  knew  the  two  bonds  you  put  up  were  the  property 
of  Cordelia  Berry.  I  want  to  know  how  you  got  hold  of 
'em." 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  you  are  accusing  me  of  stealing 
those  bonds?" 

"I'm  not  accusin'  you  of  anything  in  particular.  George 
has  put  this  affair  of  his  in  my  hands ;  I've  got  what  amounts 
to  his  signed  power  of  attorney  in  my  pocket.  If  those 
bonds  are  yours,  and  you  can  prove  it,  then  I  shan't  say  any 
more  about  'em.  If  they  still  belong  to  Cordelia — well,  that's 
another  question,  one  I  mean  to  have  the  answer  to  before 
you  and  I  part  company." 

"Kendrick,  I Do  you  realize  that  I  can  have  you 

arrested  for  this  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  But  it  does  seem  to  me  that  if  those  bonds 
aren't  your  property  then  you  had  no  right  to  pledge  'em 
in  that  stock  deal.  And  that  your  takin'  Kent's  four  hun 
dred  dollars  in  part  payment  for  'em  comes  pretty  nigh  to 
what  a  lawyer  would  call  gettin'  money  under  false  pre 
tenses.  So  the  arrests  might  be  even-Stephen,  so  far  as 
that  goes." 

This  was  the  sheerest  "bluff,"  but  it  was  delivered  with 
all  the  assurance  in  the  world.  It  had  not  precisely  the 
effect  Sears  had  hoped  for.  Egbert  did  not  seem  so  much 
frightened  as  annoyed  by  it.  He  frowned,  walked  across 
the  room  and  back,  looked  at  the  clock,  then  out  of  the  win 
dow,  and  finally  turned  to  his  opponent. 

"Recognizing,  of  course,"  he  sneered,  "the  fact  that  all 


FAIR    HARBOR  353 


this  is  absolutely  none  of  your  business,  Kendrick ;  may  I 
ask  why  you  didn't  come  to  me  in  Bayport  instead  of  here  ?" 

The  captain's  smile  returned.  "I  did  try  to  come,  Eg 
bert,"  he  answered.  "But  you  had  gone  and  so  had  the 
things  in  your  room.  You  told  Sarah  and  the  stable  folks 
you  were  goin'  to  Trumet.  When  I  found  you  hadn't  gone 
there,  but  were  bound  for  here — after  hidin'  your  valises 
over  night  in  Tabby  Crosby's  shed — I  decided  you  might  be 
goin'  even  farther  than  Denboro,  and  that  if  I  wanted  to 
see  you  pretty  soon — or  ever,  maybe — I'd  better  hoist  sail 
and  travel  fast.  When  the  depot  folks  told  me  you  were 
askin'  about  the  three-fifteen  I  felt  confirmed  in  my  judg 
ments,  as  the  fellow  said.  Now  if  you'll  tell  me  about  those 
bonds?" 

Another  turn  by  Phillips  across  the  parlor  and  back. 
Then  he  asked,  with  sarcasm,  "If  I  were  to  tell  you  that 
those  bonds  were  given  me  by  Mrs.  Berry,  you  wouldn't 
believe  it,  I  presume?" 

"We-11,  I'd  like  to  hear  a  little  testimony  from  Cordelia 
first." 

"May  I  ask  why  you  did  not  go  to  her  instead  of  to 
me?" 

"I  didn't  have  a  chance.     You  got  away  too  soon." 

"Possibly  you  may  have  thought  that  she,  too,  would  con 
sider  it  none  of  your  business.  And,  since  you  won't  take 
my  word,  how  do  you  expect  me  to  prove — here  in  Denboro 
that  those  bonds  are  mine?" 

"I  don't  know.  But  if  it  can't  be  proved  in  Denboro, 
then  I'm  afraid,  Egbert,  that  you'll  have  to  go  back  to  Bay- 
port  with  me  and  prove  it  there.  .  .  .  Oh,  I  know  you'd 
hate  to  go,  but " 

"Go !     I  flatly  refuse  to  go,  of  course." 

"I  was  afraid  you  would.  Well,  then  I'd  have  to  call 
in  the  constable  to  help  get  you  under  way.  Jim  Baker, 
the  depot  master,  is  constable  here  in  Denboro.  He  and  I 
were  shipmates.  He'd  arrest  the  prophet  Elijah  if  I  asked 
him  to,  and  not  ask  why,  either." 

"Kendrick " 


354  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Egbert,  a  spell  ago  you  and  I  had  a  little  chat  together 
and  I  told  you  I  had  just  begun  to  fight.  .  .  .  Well,  I 
haven't  really  begun  yet,  but  I'm  gettin'  up  steam.  .  .  . 
Think  it  over." 

Phillips  stopped  and,  standing  by  the  window,  stared  fix 
edly  at  the  captain.  The  latter  met  the  stare  with  a  look 
of  the  blandest  serenity.  Behind  the  look,  however,  were 
feelings  vastly  different.  If  ever  a  forlorn  hope  skated 
upon  thin  ice,  his  and  George  Kent's  was  doing  so  at  that 
moment.  If  Egbert  should  agree  to  return  to  Bayport,  and 
if  his  statement  concerning  the  ownership  of  the  Boston 
bonds  was  true,  then — well,  then  it  would  not  be  Mr.  Phil 
lips  who  might  receive  the  attentions  of  the  constable. 

Egbert  stopped  staring  and  once  more  looked  at  the  clock. 
Quarter  past  two!  He  turned  again  quickly. 

"Kendrick,"  he  snapped,  "what  is  your  proposition?" 

"My  proposition  ?  I  want  you  to  pay  me  the  sixteen  hun 
dred  dollars  Kent  put  into  that  C.  M.  stock  deal.  If  you 
do  that  I'll  give  you  his  signed  paper  turnin'  over  to  you 
all  interest  in  the  deal.  You  can  make  all  the  profit  on  it 
yourself — when  it  comes.  Then  in  matter  of  Cordelia's 
bonds " 

Phillips  lifted  a  hand. 

"The  bonds  are  not  to  be  considered,"  he  said,  decisively. 
"If  they  are  mine,  as  I  say  they  are,  you  have  no  claim  on 
them.  If  they  are  Mrs.  Berry's,  as  you  absurdly  pretend 
to  think  they  are,  again  you  have  no  claim.  If  she  says  I 
have  stolen  them — which  she  won't — she  may  prosecute ;  but, 
again,  my  dear  sir,  she — ah — won't." 

The  slight  smile  accompanying  the  last  sentence  troubled 
the  captain.  It  was  not  the  smile  of  a  frightened  man. 
Before  he  could  reply  Egbert  continued. 

"But  the  bond  matter  may  be  settled  later,"  he  went  on. 
"So  far  as  I  am  concerned  it  is  settled  now.  For  our — ah 
• — foolish  young  friend,  Kent,  however,  I  feel  a  certain  sense 
of — shall  we  say  pity? — and  am  inclined  to  make  certain 
confessions.  Silly  sentimentalism  on  my  part,  doubtless — 
but  pity,  nevertheless.  If  you  will  give  me  the  paper  signed 


FAIR    HARBOR  355 


by  him,  which  you  claim  to  have,  relinquishing  all  share  in 
the  stock  at  the  New  York  brokers,  I  will — well,  yes,  I  will 
pay  you  the  sixteen  hundred  dollars." 

It  was  Sears  Kendrick  who  was  staggered  now.  It  was 
his  turn  to  stare. 

"You  will  pay  me  sixteen  hundred  dollars — now?"  he 
gasped. 

"Yes." 

"But— but  .  .  .  Humph!  Well,  thanks,  Egbert— but 
your  check,  you  know " 

"I  have  no  time  to  waste  in  drawing  checks.  I  will  pay 
you  in  cash." 

And,  as  Sears's  already  wide-open  eyes  opened  wider  and 
wider,  he  calmly  took  from  his  coat  a  pocketbook  hugely 
obese  and  extracted  from  that  pocketbook  a  mammoth  roll 
of  bank  notes. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  captain  was  again  moving  along  the 
road  between  Denboro  and  Bayport,  bound  home  this  time. 
He  was  driving  mechanically;  the  horse  was  acting  as  his 
own  pilot,  for  the  man  who  held  the  reins  was  too  much 
engrossed  in  thought  to  pay  attention  to  such  inconsequen 
tial  matters  as  ruts  or  even  roads.  Sears  was  doing  his 
best  to  find  the  answer  to  a  riddle  and,  so  far,  the  answer 
was  as  deeply  shrouded  in  mist  as  ever  a  ship  of  his  had 
been  on  any  sea. 

He  was  satisfied  in  one  way,  more  than  satisfied.  His 
demand  for  the  full  sixteen  hundred  had  been  made  with 
no  real  hope.  Had  Phillips  consented  to  return  eight  hun 
dred  dollars  of  the  amount,  the  offer  would  in  the  end  have 
been  accepted  with  outward  reluctance  but  inward  joy.  Had 
he  refused  to  return  a  penny  Kendrick  would  not  have  been 
surprised.  But  Egbert,  after  making  up  his  mind,  had  paid 
the  entire  sum  without  a  whimper,  had  paid  it  almost  casu 
ally  and  with  the  air  of  one  obliging  a  well-meaning,  if  some 
what  annoying,  inferior.  Inspecting  and  pocketing  Kent's 
power  of  attorney  and  the  captain's  receipt  he  had  dismissed 
his  visitor  at  the  parsonage  door  as  King  Solomon  in  all  his 
glory  might  have  graciously  dismissed  a  beggar  whose  peti- 


356  FAIR    HARBOR 


tion  had  been  granted.  And  the  look  in  his  eye  and  the 
half  smile  beneath  the  long  mustache  were  not  those  of  one 
beaten  at  a  game — no,  they  were  not. 

The  recollection  of  that  look  and  that  smile  bothered 
Sears  Kendrick.  He  could  not  guess  what  was  behind  them. 
One  thing  seemed  to  be  certain,  his  threats  of  prosecution 
and  his  bluffs  concerning  the  Boston  honds  had  not  alarmed 
Phillips  greatly.  He  had  not  given  in  because  he  was  afraid 
of  imprisonment.  No ;  no,  the  only  symptoms  of  nervous 
ness  he  had  shown  were  his  repeated  glances  at  the  clock,  at 
his  watch,  and  when  he  looked  out  of  the  parsonage  window. 
More  and  more  the  captain  was  forced  to  the  conclusion  that 
Egbert  had  paid  him  to  get  rid  of  him,  that  he  did  not  wish 
to  be  detained  or  to  have  Kendrick  remain  there,  and  his 
reasons  must  have  been  so  important  that  he  was  willing 
to  part  with  sixteen  hundred  dollars  to  get  his  visitor  out 
of  the  way. 

But  what  possible  reason  could  be  as  important  as  that? 
Why  had  he  run  away  from  Bayport?  Why  was  he  taking 
the  three-fifteen  train — at  Denboro?  Why  was  he  spending 
the  time  before  the  departure  of  that  train  in  the  parlor  of 
the  Methodist  parsonage?  And  he  had  made  an  appoint 
ment  with  the  minister  himself.  Was  he  expecting  some 
one  else  at  that  parsonage? 

Eh?  The  captain  straightened  on  the  buggy  seat.  He 
spoke  aloud  one  word,  a  name. 

"Cordelia !"  he  cried. 

For  another  five  minutes  Captain  Sears  Kendrick,  his 
frown  growing  deeper  and  deeper  as  the  conviction  was 
forced  upon  him,  sat  motionless  in  the  buggy.  Then  he 
spoke  sharply  to  his  horse,  turned  the  latter  about,  and 
drove  rapidly  back  to  Denboro.  He  could  do  nothing  worth 
while,  he  could  prevent  nothing,  but  he  could  answer  that 
riddle.  He  believed  he  had  answered  it  already. 

It  was  half-past  three  when  he  again  knocked  at  the  par 
sonage  door.  The  Reverend  Backus  himself  answered  the 
knock. 

"Why,  no,"  he  said,  "Mr.  Phillips  has  gone.    Yes,  I  think 


FAIR    HARBOR  357 


— I  am  sure  he  took  the  train.  You  are  his  friend,  aren't 
you?  I  am  sorry  you  missed  the — er — happy  event.  Mrs. 
Phillips — the  new  Mrs.  Phillips — is  a  charmingly  refined 
lady,  isn't  she?  And  Mr.  Phillips  himself  is  such  a  gentle 
man.  I  don't  know  when  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of — er — 
officiating  at  a  pleasanter  ceremony.  I  shall  always  re 
member  it." 

Mrs.  Backus  looked  over  her  husband's  shoulder. 

"The  bride  came  just  after  you  left,"  she  explained.  "She 
was  just  a  little  late,  she  said ;  but  it  was  all  right,  there  was 
plenty  of  time.  And  she  did  look  so  happy !" 

Captain  Kendrick  did  not  look  happy.  He  had  answered 
the  riddle  correctly.  An  elopement,  of  course.  It  was  plain 
enough  now.  Oh,  if  he  might  have  been  there  when  that 
poor,  silly,  misguided  woman  arrived !  He  might  not  have 
been  able  to  stop  the  marriage,  but  at  least  he  could — and 
would — have  told  the  bride  a  few  pointed  truths  concerning 
the  groom. 

Mrs.  Backus,  all  smiles,  asked  her  husband  a  question. 
"What  did  you  say  her  name  was,  dear?"  she  asked. 

The  minister  hesitated.  "Why — why — "  he  stammered, 
"it  was Dear  me,  how  forgetful  I  am !" 

Sears  supplied  the  information. 

"Berry,"  he  said,  gloomily.    "Cordelia  Berry." 

Mr.  Backus  seemed  surprised.  "Why,  no,"  he  declared. 
"That  doesn't  sound  like  the  name.  ...  It  wasn't.  No, 
it  wasn't.  It  was — I  have  it — Snowden.  Miss  Elvira 
Snowden — of  Ostable,  I  believe." 


CHAPTER   XIX 

NOT  until  Captain  Kendrick  entered  the  Minot  kitchen 
late  that  afternoon  did  he  get  the  full  and  complete 
answer  to  his  puzzle.  Judah  supplied  the  missing 
details,  supplied  them  with  a  rush,  had  evidently  been  burst 
ing  with  them  for  hours. 

"My  hoppin',  creepin',  jumpin'  prophets,  Cap'n  Sears,"  he 
roared,  before  his  lodger  could  speak  a  word,  "if  I  ain't  got 
the  dumdest  news  to  tell  you  now,  then  nobody  ever  had 
none!  .  .  You  ain't  heard  it,  Cap'n,  have  you?  Don't  tell 
me  you've  heard  it  already!  Have  you?" 

Sears  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I  don't  know,  Judah,"  he 
replied.  "Have  I?" 

"Hoppin'  Henry!  I  hope  you  ain't,  'cause  I  wanted  to 
tell  you  myself.  It's  about  Elviry  Snowden.  Have  you 
heard  anything  about  her?" 

"Why — well,  what  have  you  heard?" 

"Heard!  They  heard  it  fust  over  to  the  Harbor  about 
a  couple  of  hours  ago.  Bradley,  the  Orham  lawyer  feller, 
he'd  heard  it  and  he  come  over  to  see  Elizabeth  about  some- 
thin'  or  'nother  and  he  told  it  to  all  hands.  You  know  that 
aunt  of  Elviry 's  over  to  Ostable,  the  one  that  died  last 
week?  Well,  all  hands  had  cal'lated  she  was  kind  of  on 
her  beam  ends — poor,  I  mean.  When  her  husband  died, 
don't  you  recollect  some  property  they  owned  over  to  Har- 
niss  was  goin'  to  be  sold  to  auction?  All  them  iron  images 
Elviry  wanted  to  buy  was  part  of  'em;  don't  you  remem 
ber?" 

"Yes,   I  remember." 

"Sartin  sure  you  do.  Well,  so  fur  as  that  goes  them 
images  wan't  sold  because  the  widow  changed  her  mind 

358 


FAIR   HARBOR  359 


about  'em  and  had  'em  all  carted  over  to  another  little  place 
she  owned  in  Ostable,  and  set  up  in  the  yard  there.  She's 
been  livin'  on  this  place  in  Ostable  and  everybody  figgered 
she  didn't  have  much  money  else  she'd  stayed  in  the  big 
house  in  Harniss.  But,  by  Henry,  since  she's  died  it's  come 
out  that  she  was  rich.  Yes,  sir,  rich!  She'd  saved  every 
cent,  you  see;  never  spent  nothin*.  A  reg'lar  mouser,  she 
was — miser,  I  mean.  And  who  do  you  suppose  she's  left  it 
all  to?  Elviry,  by  the  creepin'!  Yes,  sir,  every  last  cent 
to  Elviry  Snowden." 

"No!!" 

"Yes.  Elviry's  rich.  'Cordin'  to  Bradley's  tell  there's  a 
lot  of  land  and  a  house  and  barn,  and  all  them  iron  images, 
and — wait ;  let  me  tell  you — stocks,  and  things  like  that,  and 
over  ten  thousand  dollars  cash  in  the  bank,  by  Henry !  In 
cash,  where  Elviry  can  get  right  aholt  of  it  if  she  wants  to. 
Much  as  thirty  thousand,  altogether,  land  and  all.  And  .  .  . 
What  in  tunket  are  you  laughin'  at?" 

For  Captain  Kendrick  had  thrown  himself  into  the  rock 
ing  chair  and  was  shaking  the  pans  on  the  stove  with  peal 
after  peal  of  laughter. 

It  was  so  simple,  so  complete,  and  so  wonderfully,  gor 
geously  Egbertian.  A  little  matter  of  arithmetic,  that  was 
all.  Merely  the  substitution  of  twenty  or  thirty  thousand 
dollars  and  a  landed  estate  for'five — no,  three — thousand 
dollars  and  a  somewhat  cramped  future  at  the  Fair  Harbor. 
The  ladies  in  the  case  were  incidental.  When  the  choice 
was  offered  him  the  businesslike  Phillips  hesitated  not  a 
moment.  He  was  on  with  the  new  love  even  before  he  was 
off  with  the  old.  And,  in  order  to  avoid  the  unpleasant 
ness  which  was  sure  to  ensue  when  the  old  found  it  out,  he 
had  arranged  to  be  married  at  Denboro  and  to  be  far  afield 
upon  his  wedding  tour  before  the  news  reached  Bayport. 

Everything  was  clear  now.  Elvira's  windfall  explained  it 
all.  It  was  her  money  which  had  paid  Captain  Elkanah, 
and  Sarah  Macomber,  and  the  livery  man,  and  no  doubt 
many  another  of  Egbert's  little  bills.  It  was  her  money  that 
was  paying  the  honeymoon  expenses.  And,  of  course,  it 


360  FAIR    HARBOR 


was  her  sixteen  hundred  dollars  which  had  just  been  handed 
to  Sears  Kendrick  in  the  parlor  of  the  parsonage. 

No  wonder  that,  under  the  circumstances,  Egbert  had 
chosen  to  pay.  It  must  have  been  a  nerve-racking  session 
for  him,  that  interview  with  the  captain.  Each  minute 
might  bring  his  bride-to-be  to  the  parsonage  door,  and  if 
she  learned  before  marriage  of  Cordelia's  bonds  and  the 
Kent-Phillips  stock  speculation,  not  to  mention  the  threat 
ened  arrest  and  consequent  scandal,  why — well,  Elvira  was 
fatuously  smitten,  but  the  chances  were  that  the  wedding 
would  have  been  postponed,  if  nothing  worse.  No  wonder 
Egbert  preferred  parting  with  a  portion  of  his  lady-love's 
fortune  to  the  risk  of  parting  with  the  lady  herself — and 
the  remainder  of  it. 

Sears  did  not  tell  Judah  of  the  elopement.  He  did  not 
feel  like  it,  then.  His  had  been  a  tiring  day  and  the  strain 
upon  his  own  nerves  not  slight.  He  wanted  to  rest,  he 
wanted  to  think,  and  he  did  not  want  to  talk.  Judah  spared 
him  the  trouble ;  he  did  talking  enough  for  two. 

After  supper  George  Kent  came  hurrying  into  the  yard. 
Sears  had  expected  him  and,  when  he  came,  led  him  into 
the  "spare  stateroom"  and  closed  the  door.  Then,  without 
any  preliminaries,  he  took  the  sixteen  hundred  dollars  from 
his  wallet  and  gave  them  to  him. 

"There's  your  money,  George,"  he  said. 

Kent  could  not  believe  it.  He  had  come  here,  in  the  last 
stages  of  despair.  This  was  practically  his  final  day  of 
grace.  The  afternoon  mail  had  brought  him  another  letter 
from  his  brother-in-law,  making  immediate  demand  and 
threatening  drastic  action  within  the  week.  He  had  come, 
haggard,  nervous  and  trembling,  ready  to  proclaim  again 
his  intention  of  self-destruction. 

He  sat  there,  staring  at  the  money  in  his  hand,  saying 
nothing.  His  face  was  as  white  as  the  clean  towels  on  the 
captain's  washstand.  Kendrick,  leaning  forward,  laid  a 
hand  on  his  knee. 

"Brace  up,  George/'  he  ordered,  sharply.  "Don't  let  go 
of  the  wheel." 


FAIR    HARBOR  361 


Kent  slowly  lifted  his  gaze  from  the  roll  of  bills  to  his 
friend's  face. 

"You — you  got  it !"  he  faltered. 

"I  got  it — all  of  it.  There's  the  whole  sixteen  hundred 
there.  Count  it." 

"But— but,  oh,  my  God!     I— I " 

"Sshh!  Steady  as  she  is,  George.  Count  your  money. 
Put  it  on  the  table  here  by  the  lamp." 

He  took  the  bills  from  Kent's  snaking  fingers,  arranged 
them  on  the  table  and,  at  last,  coaxed  or  drove  the  young 
man  into  beginning  to  count  them.  Of  course  it  was  Ken- 
drick  himself  who  really  counted;  his  companion  did  little 
but  pick  up  the  bank  notes  and  drop  them  again.  Sud 
denly,  in  the  midst  of  the  performance,  he  stopped,  put  his 
hands  to  his  face  and  burst  into  hysterical  sobs. 

Sears  let  him  cry  for  a  time,  merely  stepping  across  to 
make  sure  that  the  bedroom  door  was  tightly  closed,  and 
then  standing  above  him  with  his  hands  on  the  bowed 
shoulders.  After  a  little  the  sobs  ceased.  A  moment  later 
and  George  raised  his  head. 

"Oh !"  he  exclaimed.     "What  a— a  kid  I  am !" 

Sears,  who  had  been  thinking  pretty  nearly  that  very 
thing,  patted  the  shoulder  beneath  his  hand. 

"All  right,  George,"  he  said.  "Bein'  a  kid  is  no  crime. 
In  fact,  it  has  some  advantages." 

"But — but,  you  see — I — I  have  been  through  purgatory 
this  week,  I " 

"I  know.     But  you're  all  through  and  out  now." 

"Yes,  I — I  am.  By  George,  I  am,  aren't  I!  ...  And 
you  did  it  for  me.  You  did!" 

"Never  mind  that.  I  enjoyed  doin'  it.  Yes,"  with  a 
slight  smile,  "I  had  a  pretty  good  time,  take  it  by  and 
large." 

"And  you  got  the — the  whole  of  it !    The  whole !" 

"Yes." 

"But  I  can't  understand.  .  .  .  Did — Cap'n  Kendrick,  did 
you  borrow  it  for  me?" 


362  FAIR    HARBOR 


"No.  I  talked  things  over  with  your — er — side-partner 
and  he  decided  to  give  it  back." 

"To  give  it  back !  Mr.  Phillips  did,  you  mean  ?  But  he 
wouldn't  give  it  to  me.  I  begged  him  to.  I  should  have 
been  satisfied  with  half  of  it — my  sister's  half.  Indeed  I 
should!  But  he  said  he  couldn't  give  it  to  me,  he  didn't 
have  it  to  give.  And — and  you  got  him  to  give  me  the 
whole!  Cap'n  Kendrick,  I — I  can't  understand." 

"You  don't  have  to.  There's  your  sixteen  hundred. 
Now  take  it,  and  before  you  turn  in  this  night  you  get  ready 
to  send  your  brother-in-law  his  half,  and  the  papers  that  go 
with  it,  on  the  first  mail.  That's  all  I  ask  of  you,  George." 

"I'll  have  it  in  the  post  office  as  soon  as  it  opens  to-morrow 
morning.  You  bet  I  will !" 

"That's  what  I  want  to  be  able  to  bet.  You  send  a  money- 
order,  that's  safest.  And — well,  yes,  George,  you  might 
show  me  the  receipt." 

"I'll  show  it  to  you.  You  can  keep  it  for  me,  if  you 
want  to." 

"Seem'  it  will  do.  And  one  thing  more:  you  promise 
me  now,  on  your  word  of  honor,  not  to  take  any  more  of 
those  stock  market  fliers  for — well,  for  ten  years,  anyhow." 

Kent  promised ;  he  would  have  promised  anything.  His 
color  had  come  back,  his  spirits  were  now  as  high  as  they 
had  been  low,  and  he  was  striding  up  and  down  the  room 
like  a  mad  thing. 

"But  how  did  you  get  it  for  me?"  he  kept  demanding. 
The  captain  bade  him  stop. 

"Never  mind  how  I  got  it,"  he  declared.  "I  got  it,  and 
you've  got  it,  and  you'll  have  to  be  satisfied  with  that.  Don't 
ask  me  again,  George." 

"I  won't,  but — but  I  can't  understand  Mr.  Phillips  giving 
if  back.  He  didn't  have  to,  you  know.  Say,  I  think  it 
was  mighty  generous  of  him,  after  all.  Don't  you?" 

Sears's  lip  twitched.  "It  looks  as  if  somebody  was  gen 
erous,"  he  observed.  "Now  run  along,  George,  and  fix  up 
that  letter  to  your  brother-in-law." 

"I'm  going  to.     I'm  going  now.     But,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  I 


FAIR   HARBOR  363 


don't  know  what  to  say  to  you.  I — why,  great  Scott,  I 
can't  begin  to  tell  you  how  I  feel  about  what  you've  done! 
I'd  cut  off  my  head  for  you ;  honest  I  would." 

"Cuttin'  off  your  own  head  would  be  consider'ble  of  a 
job.  Better  keep  your  head  on,  George.  .  .  .  And  use  it 
once  in  a  while." 

"You  know  what  this  means  to  me,  Cap'n  Kendrick.  To 
my  future  and — and  maybe  some  one  else's  future,  too. 
Why,  now  I  can  go — I  can  say Oh,  great  Scott !" 

Kendrick  opened  the  bedroom  door.  "Come  now,  George," 
he  said.  "Good  night — and  good  luck." 

Kent  would  have  said  more,  much  more,  even  though 
Judah  Cahoon  was  sitting,  with  ears  and  mouth  open,  in  the 
kitchen.  But  the  captain  would  not  let  him  linger  or  speak. 
He  helped  him  on  with  his  coat  and  hat,  and,  with  a  slap 
on  the  back,  literally  pushed  him  out  into  the  yard.  Then 
he  turned  on  his  heel  and  striding  again  through  the  kitchen 
reentered  the  spare  stateroom  and  closed  the  door  behind 
him.  Judah  shouted  something  about  its  being  "not  much 
more'n  two  bells" — meaning  nine  o'clock — but  he  received 
no  answer. 

Judah  did  not  retire  until  nearly  eleven  that  night,  but 
when,  at  last,  he  did  go  to  his  own  room,  there  was  a  light 
still  shining  under  the  door  of  the  spare  stateroom  and  he 
could  hear  the  captain's  footsteps  moving  back  and  forth, 
back  and  forth,  within.  For  two  hours  he  had  so  heard 
them.  Obviously  the  "old  man"  was  pacing  the  deck,  a 
pretty  sure  sign  of  rough  weather  present  or  expected.  Mr. 
Cahoon  was  troubled,  also  disappointed.  He  would  have 
liked  to  talk  interminably  concerning  the  sensational  news 
of  Miss  Snowden's  inheritance;  he  had  not  begun  to  ex 
haust  the  possibilities  of  that  subject.  Then,  too,  he  was 
very  anxious  to  learn  where  Captain  Sears  had  been  all 
day,  and  why.  He  tried  in  various  ways  to  secure  attention. 
But  when,  after  singing  eight  verses  of  the  most  doleful 
ditty  in  his  repertoire,  he  was  not  ordered  to  "shut  up,"  was 
in  fact  ignored  altogether,  he  quit  disgusted.  But,  as  he 


364  FAIR    HARBOR 


closed  the  door  of  his  own  bedchamber,  he  could  still  hear 
the  regular  footfalls  in  the  spare  stateroom. 

Had  he  listened  for  another  hour  or  more  he  would  have 
heard  them.  Sears  Kendrick  was  tramping  back  and  forth, 
his  hands  jammed  in  his  pockets,  and  upon  his  spirit  the 
blackest  and  deepest  and  densest  of  clouds.  It  was  the 
reaction,  of  course.  He  was  tired  physically,  but  more  tired 
mentally.  All  day  long  he  had  been  under  a  sharp  strain, 
now  he  was  experiencing  the  let-down.  But  there  was 
more  than  that.  His  campaign  against  Egbert  Phillips  had 
kept  him  interested.  Now  the  fight  was  over  and,  although 
superficially  he  was  the  victor,  in  reality  it  was  a  question 
which  side  had  won.  He  had  saved  George  Kent's  money 
and  his  good  name.  And  Cordelia  Berry's  future  was  safe, 
too,  although  her  two  thousand  dollars  might  be,  and  prob 
ably  were,  lost.  But,  after  all,  his  was  a  poor  sort  of  vic 
tory.  Egbert  was,  doubtless,  congratulating  himself  and 
chuckling  over  the  outcome  of  the  battle ;  with  thirty  thou 
sand  dollars  and  ease  and  comfort  for  the  rest  of  his  life, 
he  could  afford  to  chuckle.  Kent's  happiness  was  sure.  He 
could  go  to  Elizabeth  now  with  clean  hands  and  youth  and 
hope.  Perhaps  he  had  gone  to  her  already.  That  very 
evening  he  and  she  might  be  together  once  more. 

And  for  the  man  who  had  made  this  possible,  what  re 
mained?  Where  were  those  silly  hopes  with  which,  at  one 
time,  he  had  deluded  himself?  He  had  dared  to  dream 
romance.  Where  was  that  romance  now  ?  Face  to  face  with 
reality,  what  was  to  be  his  future?  More  days  and  weeks 
and  years  of  puttering  with  the  penny-paring  finances  of  a 
home  for  old  women? 

He  dressed  next  morning  with  a  mind  made  up.  He 
had  dallied  and  deliberated  and  wished  long  enough.  Now 
he  knew.  His  stay  in  Bayport  was  practically  ended.  Give 
him  a  little  time  and  luck  enough  to  find  a  competent  man 
ager  for  the  Fair  Harbor,  one  with  whom  he  believed 
Judge  Knowles  would  have  been  satisfied,  and  he  was 
through  for  good.  He  must  play  fair  with  the  judge  and 
then — then  for  the  shipping  offices  of  Boston  or  New  York 


FAIR    HARBOR  365 


and  a  berth  at  sea.  His  health  was  almost  normal;  his 
battered  limbs  were  nearly  as  sound  as  ever.  He  could 
handle  a  ship  and  he  could  handle  men.  His  fights  and 
sacrifices  for  others  were  finished,  over  and  done  with.  Now 
he  would  fight  for  himself. 

His  breakfast  appetite  was  poor.  Judah,  aghast  at  the 
sight  of  his  untouched  plate,  demanded  to  know  if  he  was 
sick.  The  answer  to  the  question  was  illuminating. 

"No,"  snapped  the  captain,  "I'm  not  sick.  .  .  .  Yes,  I 
am,  too.  I'm  sick  to  death  of  this  town  and  this  place  and 
this  landlubber's  job.  Judah,  are  you  goin'  to  spend  the 
rest  of  your  days  playin'  hired  boy  for  Ogden  Minot?  Or 
are  you  comin'  to  sea  again  with  me?  Because  to  sea  is 
where  I'm  goin' — and  mighty  quick." 

Judah's  mouth  opened.  "Hoppin'  Henry!"  he  gasped. 
"Why,  Cap'n  Sears- — " 

"You  don't  like  this  job,  do  you?  Hadn't  you  rather  have 
your  own  galley  on  board  a  decent  ship?  Are  you  a  sea 
man — or  a  washwoman?  Don't  you  want  to  ship  with  me 
again  ?" 

"Want  to!  Cap'n  Sears,  you  know  I'd  rather  go  to  sea 
along  with  you  than — than  be  King  of  Rooshy.  But  you 
ain't  fit  to  go  to  sea  yet." 

"Shut  up!  Don't  you  dare  say  that  again.  And  stand 
by  to  pack  your  sea  chest  when  I  give  the  order.  .  .  .  No, 
I  don't  want  to  argue.  I  won't  argue.  Clear  out !" 

Mr.  Cahoon,  bewildered  but  obedient,  cleared  out.  Not 
long  afterward  he  drove  away  on  the  seat  of  the  truck 
wagon  to  haul  the  Bangs  wood,  the  task  postponed  from  the 
previous  day.  Kendrick,  left  alone,  lit  a  pipe  and  resumed 
his  pacing  up  and  down.  Later  on  he  took  pen,  ink  and 
paper  and  seated  himself  at  the  table  to  write  some  letters 
to  shipping  merchants  whose  vessels  he  had  commanded  in 
the  old  days,  the  happy  days  before  he  gave  up  seafaring 
to  become  a  poor  imitation  of  a  business  man  on  shore. 

He  composed  these  letters  with  care.  Two  were  com 
pleted  and  the  third  was  under  way,  when  some  one  knocked 
at  the  other  door.  He  laid  down  his  pen  impatiently.  He 


366  FAIR    HARBOR 


did  not  want  to  be  interrupted.  If  the  visitor  was  Kent  he 
did  not  feel  like  listening  to  more  thanks.  If  it  was  Esther 
Tidditt  she  could  unload  her  cargo  of  gossip  at  some  other 
port. 

But  the  caller  was  neither  George  nor  Esther.  It  was 
Elizabeth  who  entered  the  kitchen  in  answer  to  his  com 
mand  to  "Come  in."  He  rose  to  greet  her.  She  looked 
pale — yes,  and  tired,  but  she  smiled  faintly  as  she  bade  him 
good  morning. 

"Cap'n  Kendrick,"  she  said,  "are  you  very  busy?  I  sup 
pose  you  are,  but — but  if  you  are  not  too  busy  I  should 
like  to  talk  with  you  for  a  few  minutes.  May  I  ?" 

He  nodded.  "Of  course,"  he  said.  "My  business  can 
wait  a  little  longer;  it  has  waited  a  good  while,  this  par 
ticular  business  has.  Sit  down." 

She  took  the  rocker.  He  sat  at  the  other  side  of  the 
table,  waiting  for  her  to  speak.  It  came  to  him,  the  thought 
that,  the  last  time  she  had  visited  that  kitchen,  she  had  left 
it  vowing  never  to  speak  to  him  again.  Well,  at  least  that 
was  over;  she  no  longer  believed  him  a  spy,  and  all  the 
rest  of  it.  There  was,  or  should  be,  some  comfort  for  him 
in  knowing  that. 

Suddenly,  just  as  she  had  done  on  the  platform  of  the 
lawyer's  office  at  Orham,  she  put  out  her  hand. 

"Don't!"  she  pleaded. 

He  started,  confusedly.  "Don't?"  he  stammered. 
'What?" 

"Don't  think  of — of  what  you  were  thinking.  If  you 
knew — oh,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  if  you  could  only  realize  how 
wicked  I  feel.  Even  when  I  said  those  dreadful  things  to 

you  I  didn't  mean  them.  And  now Oh,  please  forget 

them,  if  you  can." 

He  drew  a  long  breath.  "I  never  saw  any  one  like  you," 
he  declared.  "How  did  you  know  what  I  was  thinkin'? 
...  Of  course  I  wasn't  thinkin'  it,  but " 

She  interrupted.  "Of  course  you  were,  you  mean,"  she 
said,  with  a  faint  smile.  "It  isn't  hard  to  know  what  you 


FAIR   HARBOR  367 


think.  You  don't  hide  your  thoughts  very  well,  Cap'n  Ken- 
drick.  They  aren't  the  kind  one  needs  to  hide." 

He  stared  at  her  in  guilty  amazement.  "Good  land!'* 
he  ejaculated,  involuntarily.  "Don't  talk  that  way.  What 
do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"I  mean  that  your  thoughts  are  always  straightforward 
and — well,  honest,  like  yourself.  .  .  .  But  we  mustn't 
waste  time.  I  don't  know  when  we  shall  have  another  op 
portunity  to  be  together  like  this,  and  there  are  some  things 
I  must  say  to  you.  Cap'n  Kendrick,  you  know — you  have 
heard  the  news?" 

"News?  .  .  .  Oh,  you  mean  about  Elvira's  inheritin'  all 
that  money?" 

"That,  of  course.  But  that  wasn't  the  news  I  meant.  I 
mean  about  her  eloping  with — with  that  man." 

Troubled  even  as  Sears  was  at  the  sight  of  her  evident 
distress,  he  could  not  but  feel  a  thrill  of  satisfaction  at  the 
tone  in  which  she  referred  to  "that  man."  He  nodded. 

"I've  heard  it,"  he  said.  "I  guess  likely  I  was  about  the 
first  Bayporter  that  did  hear  it.  When  did  you  hear?" 

"A  little  while  ago.  He  wrote — he  wrote  my  mother  a 
letter.  It  was  at  the  post  office  this  morning." 

"He  did?    He  didn't!    The  low-lived  scamp!" 

"Hush !  Don't  talk  about  him.  Yes,  he  wrote  her.  Such 
a  letter!  She  showed  it  to  me.  So  full  of  hypocrisy,  and 
lies  and — oh,  can't  you  imagine  what  it  was?" 

Kendrick's  right  fist  tapped  the  table  gently.  "I  guess 
likely  I  can,"  he  said,  grimly.  "Well,  some  of  these  days 

I  may  run  afoul  of  Egbert  again.  When  I  do "  The 

fist  closed  a  little  tighter. 

"You  won't  touch  him.  Promise  me  you  won't.  If  you 

should,  I Oh,  dear!  I  think  I  should  be  afraid  to 

touch  your  hands  afterwards." 

Sears  smiled.  "It  might  be  safer  to  use  my  boot,"  he 
admitted.  "Your  mother — how  is  she?" 

"Can't  you  imagine?  I  think — I  hope  it  is  her  pride  that 
is  hurt  more  than  anything.  For  some  little  time — well, 
ever  since  I  found  out  that  she  was  lending  him  money — 


368  FAIR   HARBOR 


I  have  done  my  best  to  make  her  see  what  he  really  is.  But 
before  that — oh,  there  is  no  use  pretending,  for  you  know — 
she  was  insane  about  him.  And  now,  with  the  shock  and 

the  disillusionment  and  the  shame,  she  is Oh,  it  is 

dreadful!" 

"Do  the — er — rest  of  'em  over  there  know  it  yet?" 

"No,  but  they  will  very  soon.  And  when  they  do !  You 
know  what  some  of  them  are,  what  they  will  say.  We  can't 
stay  there,  mother  and  I.  We  must  go  away — and  we  will." 

She  was  crying,  and  if  ever  a  man  yearned  for  the  role 
of  comforter,  Sears  Kendrick  was  that  man.  He  tried  to 
say  something,  but  he  was  afraid  to  trust  his  own  tongue; 
it  might  run  away  with  him.  And  before  his  attempt  was 
at  all  coherent,  she  went  on. 

"Don't  mind  me,"  she  said,  hastily  wiping  her  eyes.  "I 
am  nervous,  and  I  have  been  through  a  bad  hour,  and — and 
I  am  acting  foolishly,  of  course.  I  know  that  this  is,  in 
a  way,  the  very  best  thing  that  could  happen.  This  ends 
it,  so  far  as  mother  is  concerned.  Oh,  it  might  have  been  so 
much  worse!  It  looked  as  if  it  were  going  to  be.  Now 
she  knows  what  he  is.  I  have  known  it,  or  been  almost 
sure  of  it,  for  a  long  time.  And  you  must  have  known  it 
always,  from  the  beginning.  That  is  a  part  of  what  I  came 
here  for  this  morning.  Please  tell  me  how  you  knew  and — 
and  all  about  everything." 

So  he  told  her,  beginning  with  what  Judge  Knowles  had 
said  concerning  Lobelia's  husband,  and  continuing  on  to  the 
end.  She  listened  intently. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "I  see.  I  wish  you  could  have  told  me 
at  first.  I  think  if  I  had  known  exactly  how  Judge  Knowles 
felt  I  might  not  have  been  so  foolish.  But  I  should  have 
known — I  should  have  seen  for  myself.  Of  course  I  should. 
To  think  that  I  ever  believed  in  such  a  creature,  and  trusted 
him,  and  permitted  him  to  influence  me  against — against  a 
friend  like  you.  Oh,  I  must  have  been  crazy !" 

Kendrick  shook  his  head.  "No  craziness  about  that,"  he 
declared.  "I've  seen  some  smooth  articles  in  my  time,  seen 
'em  afloat  and  ashore,  from  one  end  of  this  world  to  the 


FAIR    HARBOR  369 


other,  but  of  all  the  slick  ones  he  was  the  slickest.  It's  a 
good  thing  the  judge  warned  me  before  Egbert  crossed  my 
bows.  If  he  hadn't — well,  I  don't  know;  /  might  have  been 
lendin'  him  my  last  dollar,  and  proud  of  the  chance — you 
can't  tell.  .  .  .  I'm  sorry,  though,"  he  added,  "that  he  got 
those  bonds  of  your  mother's.  Borrowed  'em  of  her,  you 
say?" 

"Yes.  He  was  going  to  make  better  investments  for  her, 
I  believe  he  said.  But  that  doesn't  make  any  difference. 
She  has  no  receipts  or  anything  to  show.  And  of  course  if 
she  should  try  to  get  them  again  there  would  be  dreadful 
gossip,  all  sorts  of  things  said.  No,  the  bonds  are  gone 
and  .  .  .  But  how  did  you  know  about  the  bonds,  Cap'n 
Kendrick?" 

Sears  had  momentarily  forgotten.  He  had,  during  his 
story  of  his  war  with  Phillips,  carefully  avoided  mentioning 
Kent's  trouble.  He  had  told  of  chasing  Egbert  to  Denboro, 
but  the  particular  reason  for  the  pursuit  he  had  not  told. 
He  was  taken  aback  and  embarrassed. 

"Why — why "  he  stammered. 

But  she  answered  her  own  question.  "Of  course!"  she 
cried.  "I  know  how  you  knew.  George  said  that — that  that 
man  had  used  some  bonds  as  a  part  of  their  stock  specula 
tion.  I  didn't  think  then  of  mother's  bonds.  That  is  what 
he  did  with  them.  I  see." 

The  captain  looked  at  her.  Kent  had  told  her  of  the 
C.  M.  deal.  That  meant  that  he  had  seen  her,  that  already 
he  had  gone  to  her,  to  confess,  to  beg  her  pardon,  to  ... 
He  sighed.  Well,  he  should  be  glad,  of  course.  He  must 
pretend  to  be  very  glad. 

"So — so  you've  seen  George?"  he  stammered. 

She  colored  slightly.  "Yes,"  she  answered.  "He  came 
to  see  me  last  evening.  .  .  .  Cap'n  Kendrick  you  should 
hear  him  speak  of  you.  You  saved  him  from  disgrace — 
and  worse,  he  says.  It  was  a  wonderful  thing  to  do.  But 
I  think  you  must  be  in  the  habit  of  doing  wonderful  things 
for  other  people." 

He   shrugged   his   shoulders.      "Nothin'   very    wonderful 


370  FAIR   HARBOR 


about  it,"  he  said.  "George  is  a  good  boy.  He  hadn't 
bumped  into  any  Egberts  before,  that's  all.  He'll  be  on  the 
lookout  for  'em  now.  I'm  glad  for  him — and  for  you." 

If  she  understood  what  he  meant  she  did  not  show  any 
embarrassment. 

"I  don't  know  that  you  need  be  so  glad  for  me,"  she  said. 
"Yet  in  a  way  I  am  glad.  The  problem  is  settled  now, 
mother's  and  mine.  She  and  I  will  go  away." 

"Go  away?     From  the  Fair  Harbor?" 

"Yes,  and  from  Bayport.  She  has  a  little  money  left. 
Thanks  to  Judge  Knowles,  I  have  some  of  my  own.  She 
and  I  can  live  on  the  interest  for  a  time,  or  until  I  can  find 
a  way  to  earn  more." 

"But— but— George?" 

"I  think  George  is  going  away,  too.  He  spoke  of  Boston. 
But  there  is  another  thing  I  meant  to  say  to  you.  I  hate 
to  leave  you  with  the  entire  care  of  the  Fair  Harbor  on 
your  hands.  I  shall  try  and  help  you  to  find  another  matron 
before  we  go." 

Sears  rose  from  his  chair.  "That's  all  right,"  he  said, 
"that  part  of  it.  We'll  try  and  find  another  outside  man 
ager  at  the  same  time.  You  see,  you  and  your  mother  aren't 
the  only  ones  who  are  quittin'  Bayport.  I'm  goin',  too." 

She  turned  to  look  at  him.  "You  are  going?"  she  re 
peated,  slowly.  "Where?" 

"I  don't  know  exactly.  To  sea,  I  hope.  I'm  well  again, 
or  next  door  to  it.  I  mean  to  command  another  ship,  if 
such  a  thing's  possible." 

"But  you  are  leaving  the  Fair  Harbor.    Why?" 

He  turned  on  her  almost  fiercely.  "Why?"  he  cried. 
"Don't  you  know  why?  Because  I'm  a  man — or  I  was  one 
— and  I  want  to  be  a  man  again.  On  shore,  I'm — well,  I'm 
a  good  deal  of  a  failure,  I  guess ;  but  on  salt  water  I  count 
for  somethin'.  I'm  goin'  to  sea  where  I  belong." 

He  strode  to  the  window  and  stood  there,  looking  out. 
He  heard  her  rise,  heard  her  step  beside  him.  Then  he  felt 
her  hand  upon  his. 


FAIR    HARBOR  371 


"I'm  glad  for  you,"  she  said,  simply.  "Very,  very  glad. 
I  wish  I  were  a  man  and  could  go,  too." 

He  did  not  look  at  her,  he  did  not  dare. 

"It's  a  rough  life,"  he  said,  "but  I  like  it." 

"I  know.  ...  So  you  will  soon  be  really  seeing  again 
those  things  you  told  me  about,  the  foreign  cities  and  the 
people  and  those  islands — and  all  the  wonderful,  wonderful 
places.  And  you  won't  have  to  fret  about  the  grocery 
bills,  or  the  mean  little  Fair  Harbor  gossip,  or  anything  of 
the  kind.  You  can  just  sail  away  and  forget  it  all." 

"I  shan't  forget  it  all.  There's  a  lot  I  never  want  to 
forget." 

There  was  an  interval  of  silence  here,  an  interval  that,  to 
the  captain,  seemed  to  last  for  ages.  It  must  be  broken,  it 
must  be  or  .... 

"I  shall  think  of  you  and  George  often  enough,"  he  an 
nounced,  briskly.  "Yes,  indeed.  And — and  if  it  isn't  too 
soon — that  is,  if  you  don't  mind  my  bein'  the  first  one — I'd 
like  to  congratulate  you  and  wish  you  a  smooth  passage 
and  a  long  one." 

She  did  not  answer  and  he  mustered  courage  to  turn  and 
look  at  her.  She  was  looking  at  him  and  her  expression 
was  odd. 

"A  smooth  passage?"  she  repeated.  "Why,  Cap'n  Ken- 
drick,  I'm  not  going  to  sea.  What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean — well,  I  meant — er — oh,  I  was  speakin'  in  para 
bles,  like  a  minister,  you  know.  I  was  wishin'  you  and 
George  a  happy  voyage  through  life,  that's  all." 

"George!  Why,  I  am  going  away  with  my  mother. 
George  isn't  .  .  .  Why,  Cap'n  Kendrick,  you  don't  think 
• — you  can't  think  that  George  and  I  are — are " 

"Eh?     Aren't  you?     I  thought " 

She  shook  her  head.  "I  told  you  once,"  she  said.  "I 
mean  it.  I  like  George  well  enough — sometimes  I  like  him 
better  than  at  others.  But — oh,  why  can't  you  believe  me?" 

He  was  staring  at  her  with  a  gaze  so  intent,  an  expres 
sion  so  strange  that  she  could  not  meet  it.  She  turned 
away. 


372  FAIR    HARBOR 


"Please  don't  say  any  more  about  it,"  she  begged. 

"But — but  George  is — he  has  counted  on  it.  He  told 
me " 

"Don't.  I  don't  know  what  he  told  you.  I  hope  nothing 
foolish.  He  and  I  understand  each  other.  Last  night,  when 
he  came,  I  told  him  .  .  .  There,  I  must  go,  Cap'n  Ken- 
drick.  I  have  left  mother  alone  too  long  already." 

"Wait!"  he  shouted  it.  "You  mean  .  .  .  You  aren't 
goin'  to  marry  George  Kent — ever?" 

"Why,  no,  of  course  not !" 

"Elizabeth — oh,  my  soul,  I — I'm  crazy,  I  guess — but — 

Elizabeth,  could  you No,  you  couldn't,  I  know.  .  .  . 

But  am  I  crazy  ?  Could  you — do  you — Elizabeth,  if  you  .  .  . 
Stop!" 

She  was  on  her  way  to  the  door. 

He  sprang  after  her,  caught  her  hand. 

"Elizabeth,"  he  cried,  the  words  tumbling  over  each  other, 
"I'm  thirty-eight  years  old.  I'm  a  sailor,  that's  all.  I'm  not 
much  of  a  man,  as  men  go  maybe,  sort  of  a  failure  so  far. 
But — with  you  to  work  for  and  live  for,  I — I  guess  I  could 
be — I  feel  as  if  I  could  be  almost  anything.  Could  you  give 
me  that  chance?  Could  you?" 

She  did  not  answer ;  did  not  even  look  at  him.  He  dropped 
her  hand. 

"Of  course  not,"  he  sighed.  "Just  craziness  was  what  it 
was.  Forgive  me,  my  girl.  And — forget  it,  if  you  can." 

She  did  not  speak.  Slowly,  and  still  without  looking  at 
him,  she  walked  out  of  the  kitchen.  The  outer  door  closed 
behind  her.  He  put  his  hand  to  his  eyes,  breathed  deeply, 
and  returning  to  the  chair  by  the  table,  sat  heavily  down. 

"A  failure,"  he  groaned  aloud.  "Lord  Almighty,  what  a 
failure!" 

He  had  not  heard  the  door  open,  but  he  did  hear  her 
step,  and  felt  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  her  kiss  upon 
his  cheek. 

"Don't,  don't,  don't!"  she  sobbed.  "Oh,  my  dear,  don't 
say  that.  Don't  ever  say  it  again.  Oh,  you  mustn't." 

And  he  did  not.     For  the  next  half  hour  he  said  many 


FAIR    HARBOR  373 


other  things,  and  so  did  she,  and  when  at  last  she  did  go 
away,  he  stood  in  the  doorway,  looking  after  her,  knowing 
himself  to  be  not  a  failure,  but  the  one  real  overwhelming 
success  in  all  this  gloriously  successful  world, 


CHAPTER   XX 

IT  was  April  and  one  of  those  beautiful  early  spring  days 
with  which  New  England  is  sometimes  favored.  The 
first  buds  were  showing  on  the  trees,  the  first  patches 
of  new  green  were  sprinkling  the  sheltered  slopes  of  the 
little  hills,  and  under  the  dead  leaves  by  the  edges  of  the 
woods  boys  had  been  rummaging  for  the  first  mayflowers. 

It  was  supper  time  at  the  Fair  Harbor  and  the  "guests" — 
quoting  Mrs.  Susannah  Brackett — or  the  "inmates" — quot 
ing  Mr.  Judah  Cahoon — were  seated  about  the  table.  There 
were  some  notable  vacancies  in  the  roster.  At  the  head, 
where  Mrs.  Cordelia  Berry  had  so  graciously  and  for  so 
long  presided,  there  was  now  an  empty  chair.  That  chair 
would  soon  be  filled,  however;  the  new  matron  of  the  Har 
bor  was  at  that  moment  in  the  office  discussing  business 
matters  with  Mr.  Bradley,  the  new  "outside  manager."  She 
had  told  the  others  not  to  wait  for  her;  she  would  come  to 
supper  as  soon  as  she  could.  So  Mrs.  Brackett,  who  had 
moved  up  to  the  seat  once  glorified  by  the  dignity  of  Miss 
Elvira  Snowden,  was  serving  the  cold  corned  beef;  while 
opposite  her,  in  the  chair  where  Elizabeth  Berry  used  to  sit, 
Mrs.  Aurora  Chase  was  ladling  forth  the  preserved  pears. 
And,  in  the  absence  of  the  matron,  it  was  of  course  natural 
that  conversation  should  turn  to  subjects  which  could  not 
be  discussed  as  freely  or  pointedly  in  her  presence. 

Miss  Desire  Peasley  began  the  discussion.  She  looked  at 
the  ancient  clock  on  the  mantel.  The  time  was  a  quarter  to 
six. 

"H'm,"  sniffed  Miss  Peasley,  with  a  one-sided  smile.  "I 
suppose  likely  the  great  event's  took  place  long  afore  this. 
They're  married  and  off  on  their  honeymoon  by  now.  .  .  . 

374 


FAIR    HARBOR  375 


If  you  can  call  a  cruise  on  board  a  ship  bound  to  an  out 
landish  place  like  Singapore  a  honeymoon.  I  took  one 
voyage  to  Bombay  with  my  brother,  and  'twan't  the  honey 
moon  trip  I'd  pick  out.  Such  a  place !  And  such  folks ! 
The  clothes  those  poor  heathens  wore — or  didn't  wear! 
Shameful!  Don't  talk!" 

The  order  not  to  talk  was  plainly  not  considered  binding, 
for  every  one  immediately  began  to  talk. 

"I  should  like  to  have  seen  the  weddin',"  proclaimed  Mrs. 
Hattis  Thomas,  with  a  giggle.  "Must  have  looked  more 
like  an  adoptin*  ceremony  than  a  marryin'.  I've  always 
been  thankful  for  one  thing,  I  married  a  man  somewheres 
nigh  my  own  age,  anyhow." 

"Wonder  how  Cordelia  likes  bein'  left  alone?"  observed 
Mrs.  Constance  Cahoon.  "She's  been  used  to  havin'  a 
daughter  to  wait  on  her  hand  and  foot.  Now  she'll  have  to 
wait  on  herself  for  a  spell.  But  I  presume  likely  she  won't 
mind  that.  Livin'  up  to  Boston,  with  the  interest  of  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars  to  live  on,  will  suit  her  down  to  the 
ground.  She'll  be  airy  enough  now.  Won't  speak  to  com 
mon  folks,  I  suppose.  Well,  she  won't  have  to  put  herself 
out  to  speak  to  me.  I  shan't  go  a-visitin'  her,  even  if  she 
begs  me  to." 

There  was  no  immediate  symptom  of  Mrs.  Berry's  beg 
ging  for  visitors,  at  least  none  present  had  so  far  received 
an  invitation.  But  all  nodded,  indicating  that  they,  too, 
would  scorn  the  plea  when  it  came. 

"That  poor  man !"  sighed  Mrs.  Brackett,  pityingly.  "How 
those  two,  mother  and  daughter,  did  pull  the  wool  over  his 
eyes.  I  suppose  he  thinks  we  all  believe  he  wouldn't  take 
a  cent  of  Elizabeth's  money.  Humph!  Good  reason  why 
Jack  wouldn't  eat  his  supper — he  didn't  have  a  chance.  Ha, 
ha!  I  cal'late  he'd, taken  it  if  he  could  have  got  it.  But 
his  wife  knew  a  trick  worth  two  of  that.  She'll  keep  him 
afloat  and  hard  at  work  earnin*  more  for  her  to  spend. 
Well,  I  hope  his  poor  lame  legs  won't  give  out  on  him.  If 
he  has  to  give  up  goin'  to  sea  again,  I  pity  him,  that's  all 
I've  got  to  say." 


376  FAIR    HARBOR 


Mrs.  Chase,  her  jet  black  locks  a  trifle  askew  as  usual, 
was  listening,  the  hand  holding  the  preserve  spoon  cupped 
behind  her  ear  and  the  spoon  itself  sticking  out  like  a  Fiji 
Islander's  head  ornament.  As  usual  she  had  heard  next  to 
nothing. 

"That's  what  I  say!"  she  declared.  "Why,  Mr.  Bradley, 
or  whoever  was  responsible,  let  Sears  Kendrick  put  a  woman 
with  six  children  in  as  matron  of  this  place,  I  can't  under 
stand.  Of  course  it's  plain  enough  why  Cap'n  Sears  wanted 
her  to  have  the  job.  Joel  Macomber's  wages  ain't  more 
than  twelve  dollars  a  week  and  the  salary  here'll  give  'em 
all  the  luxuries  and  doodads  they  want.  Fust  thing  you 
know  that  Sary-Mary  of  hers'll  be  goin'  to  the  Middleboro 
Academy  to  school.  I  wouldn't  put  it  past  her.  .  .  .  Hey  ? 
What  did  you  say,  Susanna?" 

Mrs.  Brackett  had  not  said  anything.  She  and  some  of 
the  others  were  glancing  uneasily  in  the  direction  of  the 
hall  door.  All  agreed  that  the  appointment  of  Sarah  Ma- 
comber  as  matron  of  the  Fair  Harbor  was  an  outrage,  but 
no  one  cared  to  have  Mrs.  Macomber  know  of  that  agree 
ment.  It  was  an  experiment,  that  appointment,  and  Sarah 
herself  was  by  no  means  confident  of  its  success,  although 
she  had  at  last  agreed  to  give  it  three  months'  trial.  Half 
of  that  time  was  over  and  so  far  all  was  well.  Bradley 
expressed  huge  satisfaction.  Mrs.  Macomber  came  to  the 
Harbor  early  each  morning  and  went  home  again  after 
supper.  Sarah-Mary  and  a  hired  girl,  wages  three  dollars 
a  week,  were  doing  the  Macomber  housework. 

"Hey?"  shouted  Aurora  once  more.  "What  did  you  say, 
Susanna  ?" 

Mrs.  Brackett,  after  another  uneasy  glance  at  the  hall 
door,  nodded  and  smiled.  Mrs.  Cahoon  spoke  quickly,  in 
order  to  change  the  subject. 

"What  do  you  suppose  I  heard  to-day?"  she  answered. 
"I  met  Josiah  Ellis  down  to  'Liphalet's  store  and  he  told 
me  he  see  Mr.  Phillips  yesterday.  Josiah  drove  one  of  the 
livery  hoss-'n'-teams  over  to  Denboro — had  a  Boston  notion 
drummer  to  cart  over  there,  he  did — and  who  should  come 


FAIR    HARBOR  377 


drivin'  along  but  Mr.  Phillips.  Josiah  said  he  was  dressed 
just  as  elegant  as  ever  was,  and  the  hoss-'n'-team  he  was 
drivin'  was  styled-up  to  match.  Josiah  hailed  him  and  Mr. 
Phillips  stopped  and  talked  for  a  few  minutes.  Nice  as 
always,  not  a  bit  of  airs.  No,  Elviry  wan't  with  him.  Mr. 
Phillips  said  she  was  to  home  gettin'  him  ready  to  go  away 
for  a  little  vacation.  Seems  he's  cal'latin'  to  go  to  New 
York  for  a  fortni't.  Mr.  Phillips  told  Josiah  that  Elviry 
was  kind  of  tired  out,  they'd  done  so  much  entertainin'  this 
winter,  and  he  was  goin'  away  so's  she  could  have  a  little 
rest.  Ain't  that  just  like  him  ?  Self-sacrificin' — my  sakes  ! 
Elviry's  a  lucky  woman,  that's  all  I've  got  to  say.  I  don't 
say  so  much  about  his  luck ;  but  when  she  got  him  she  done 
well." 

There  was  a  general  buzz  of  agreement  about  the  table. 
Then  from  the  kitchen,  where  she  had  gone  to  get  a  fresh 
supply  of  cream-of-tartar  biscuit,  came  little  Mrs.  Tidditt. 
She  put  the  plate  of  biscuits  on  the  table  and  sat  down. 

"What's  that,  Constance?"  she  demanded. 

Mrs.  Cahoon  repeated  the  news  of  the  Phillips  family. 
Aurora  put  in  a  word. 

"There's  one  thing  I've  always  been  sorry  for,"  she  said. 
"Of  course  I  wouldn't  take  anything  away  from  Elviry,  she 
and  I  have  always  been  good  friends.  But  she's  got  enough 
as  'tis,  and  I  do  wish  — I  do  wish  that  Sears  Kendrick  had 
stayed  away  from  this  place  until  we'd  had  a  chance  to 
buy  them  lovely  lawn  statues.  We'll  never  have  another 
chance  like  that  again." 

Esther  Tidditt  smiled.  "Yes,  you  will,  Aurora,"  she 
snapped.  "Yes,  you  will.  Give  him  time  and  about  two  or 
three  more  New  York  trips,  and  those  images  will  be  up  at 
auction  again.  Thirty  thousand  don't  last  some  folks  long, 
and  Elviry  and  her  Eg  will  be  needin'  money  to  pay  grocery 
bills.  You  can't  eat  an  iron  lion.  Just  wait,  Aurora.  We 
may  have  that  menagerie  in  the  yard  here  yet.  Possess 
your  soul  in  patience." 

There  was  another  buzz  about  the  table,  this  time  of 
scornful  disapproval.  Mrs.  Chase  leaned  forward. 


378  FAIR    HARBOR 


"What's  she  sayin',  Susanna?"  she  demanded,  querulously. 
"Susanna  Brackett,  why  don't  you  or  the  rest  tell  me  what 
she's  sayin'?" 

******* 

At  that  moment  the  ship  Gold  Finder,  of  Boston,  Win- 
throp  and  Hunniwell,  owners,  Sears  Kendrick,  master,  was 
sailing  out  over  the  waters  of  Massachusetts  Bay.  Astern,  a 
diamond  point  against  the  darkening  sky,  Minot's  Light 
shone.  The  vessel  was  heeling  slightly  in  the  crisp  evening 
wind,  her  full,  rounded  sails  rustling  overhead,  her  cordage 
creaking,  foam  at  her  forefoot  and  her  wake  stretching 
backward  toward  the  land  she  was  leaving.  Her  skipper 
stood  aft  by  the  binnacle,  feeling,  with  a  joy  quite  indescrib 
able,  the  lift  of  the  deck  beneath  him  and  the  rush  of  the 
breeze  across  his  face. 

From  the  open  door  of  the  galley  lamplight  streamed. 
Within  Judah  Cahoon  sang  as  he  worked  over  the  stove. 
Judah  had  had  a  glorious  afternoon.  His  chanteys  had 
cast  off  the  hawsers,  had  walked  away  with  the  ropes,  had 
hoisted  the  sails,  had  bade  the  tug  good-by.  Now  his  voice 
was  a  thought  frayed,  but  he  sang  on. 

Elizabeth — now  Elizabeth  Berry  no  more  forever — came 
up  the  companion  ladder.  She  joined  her  husband  by  the 
after  rail.  The  sea  air  was  chill  and  she  was  wearing  one 
of  the  captain's  pea  jackets,  the  collar  turned  up ;  a  feathery 
strand  of  her  brown  hair  blew  out  to  leeward.  She  stood 
beside  him.  The  man  at  the  wheel  was  looking  down  into 
the  binnacle  and  Sears  took  her  hand. 

"Well?"  he  said,  after  a  moment. 

She  looked  up  at  him.     "Well?"  she  said. 

Neither  spoke  immediately.  Then  Kendrick  breathed  a 
sigh,  a  sigh  expressive  of  many  things. 

She  understood.  As  always  she  knew  what  he  was 
thinking. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "it  is  glorious.  Glorious  for  me ;  but  for 
you,  Sears " 

"Yes.  It's  pretty  fine.  I  really  never  expected  to  make 
sail  out  of  Boston  harbor  again.  And  if  rnybody  had  told 


FAIR   HARBOR  379 


me  that  I  was  to — "  with  another  look  at  the  helmsman,  and 
lowering  his  voice — "to  leave  port  this  way — with  you " 

He  laughed  aloud. 

She  laughed,  too.  "And  just  think,"  she  said ;  "no  more 
little  worries  or  pettinesses,  no  more  whispers,  or  fault 
finding,  or " 

"Or  Fair  Harbors.  You're  right,  my  girl.  We're  off, 
clean  away  from  it  all,  bound  out." 

From  the  galley  Judah's  voice  came,  beginning  the  second 
verse  of  his  song. 

"  'Aloft !     Aloft !'  our  jolly  bos'n  cries. 

Blow  high !  blow  low !  and  so  sailed  we. 
'Look  ahead,  look  astern,  look  a-weather  and  a-lee, 

Look  along  down  the  coast  of  the  High  Bar-ba-ree.' 

"There's  none  upon  the  starn,  there's  none  upon  the  lee.' 

Blow  high !  blow  low !  and  so  sailed  we. 
There's  a  lofty  ship  to  wind'ard  a-sailin'  fast  and  free, 
Sailin*  down  along  the  coast  of  the  High  Bar-ba-ree/ J; 

THE   END 


(i) 


Novels  for  Cheerful  Entertainment 


GALUSHA  THE  MAGNIFICENT 

By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln 
Author  of  "Shavings,"  "The  Portygee"  etc. 

The  whole  family  will  laugh  over  this  deliciously  humorous  novel,  that 
pictures  the  sunny  side  of  small-town  life,  and  contains  love-making, 
a  dash  of  mystery,  an  epidemic  of  spook-chasing — and  laughable, 
lovable  Galusha. 

THESE   YOUNG  REBELS 

By  Frances  R.  Sterrett 
Author  of  "Nancy  Con  to  Town,"  "  Up  the  Road  with  Sally,"  etc. 

A  sprightly  novel  that  hits  off  to  perfection  the  present  antagonism 
between  the  rebellious  younger  generation  and  their  disapproving  elders. 

PLAY  THE  GAME 

By  Ruth  Comfort  Mitchell 

A  happy  story  about  American  young  people.  The  appealing  qualities 
of  a  brave  young  girl  stand  out  in  the  strife  between  two  young  fellows, 
the  one  by  fair  the  other  by  foul  means,  to  win  her. 

IN   BLESSED   CYRUS 

By  Laura  E.  Richards 
Author  of  "A  Daughter  of  Jehu,"  etc. 

The  quaint,  quiet  village  of  Cyrus,  with  its  whimsical  villagers,  is  abruptly 
turned  topsy-turvy  by  the  arrival  in  its  midst  of  an  actress,  distractingly 
feminine,  Lila  Laughter;  and,  at  the  same  time,  an  epidemic  of  small-pox. 

HELEN  OF  THE  OLD   HOUSE 

By  Harold  Bell  Wright 

Wright's  greatest  novel,  that  presents  the  life  of  industry  to-day,  the 
laughter,  the  tears,  the  strivings  of  those  who  live  about  the  smoky 
chimneys  of  an  American  industrial  town. 

NEW  YORK  D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY  LONDON 

T700  - 


AMONG  THE  NEWEST  NOVELS 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MOHUN 

By  GEORGE  GIBBS,  Author  of  "Youth  Triumphant," 

etc. 

A  distinguished  novel  depicting  present  day  society 
and  its  most  striking  feature,  the  "flapper."  A  story 
of  splendid  dramatic  qualities. 

THE  COVERED  WA^ON 

By  EMERSON  HOUGH,  Author  of  "The  Magnificent 
Adventure,"  "The  Story  of  the  Cowboy,"  etc. 
A  novel  of  the  first  water,  clear  and  clean,  is  this 

thrilling  story  of  the  pioneers,  the  men  and  women  who 

laid  the  foundation  of  the  great  west. 

HOMESTEAD  RANCH 

By  ELIZABETH  G.  YOUNG 

The  New  York  Times  says  that  "Homestead  Ranch" 
is  one  of  the  season's  "two  best  real  wild  and  woolly 
western  yarns."  The  Boston  Herald  says,  "So  delight 
ful  that  we  recommend  it  as  one  of  the  best  western 
stories  of  the  year." 

SACRIFICE 

By    STEPHEN    FRENCH    WHITMAN,    Author    of 

"Predestined,"  etc. 

How  a  woman,  spoiled  child  of  New  York  society, 
faced  the  dangers  of  the  African  jungle  trail.  "One 
feels  ever  the  white  heat  of  emotional  conflict." — 
Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

DOUBLE-CROSSED 

By  W.  DOUGLAS  NEWTON,  Author  of  "Low  Ceil 
ings,"  etc. 

"An  excellently  written  and  handled  tale  of  adven 
ture  and  thrills  in  the  dark  spruce  valleys  of  Canada." 
— New  York  Times. 

JANE  JOURNEYS  ON 

By  RUTH  COMFORT  MITCHELL,  Author  of  "Play 

the  Game,"  etc. 

The  cheerful  story  of  a  delightful  heroine's  adven 
tures  from  Vermont  to  Mexico. 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 
New  York  London 


T713 


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